Chasing Horizons
by DefyGravity18
Summary: Sometimes, it takes hitting rock bottom to realize what you need to do to fix yourself, but starting over is easier said than done. Two people will have to let go of the past to find a future they never knew they wanted. Killian decides to end his misery after being defeated for the last time, but his suicide attempt is thwarted by a young nun to be named Lucy Morgan. Hookriel.
1. Chapter 1

**First attempt at a WAY non-canon pairing. Just another possibility for Hook, I suppose. I do love Killian. **

* * *

He's failed again. It's been three days since both of his enemies chewed him up and spit him back out, leaving him an outcast with nowhere to stay in this awful, heartless world. Milah is probably rolling in her watery grave, forever disappointed by the man who could not save her. The sheriff is no longer understanding of his case…not after he took her son hostage. A stupid mistake he'd made in his desperation upon finding out that Rumpelstiltskin's son was the boy's father. If he'd kept his head, he might have recognized the dark eyes of the man who was once the boy he'd fought many times over the years. He'd returned with Emma and Hook had written him off as nothing but an ignorant outsider.

A stupid mistake.

It had been as if no time had passed at all, fighting with the agility of practice. He couldn't fly here, but somehow, he didn't need to. The man could climb and scale as if gravity weren't an issue. And what had come out of fighting Milah's husband and son? He'd lost his hook, his ship and any hope of building a new life for himself. Revenge, it seemed, was easier said than done. And Emma had been right. She'd told him that you fight and you fight and if you win, all you've done is hurt someone else. And if you lose, all you've done is hurt someone. So, do you really win? Does anyone?

In the end, Milah is still dead and Killian is still alone. Nothing changes.

And he doesn't want to live this way anymore. He's tired of being angry. He's tired of fighting. So, he manages to scrape up enough money to buy him a bottle of rum, ignoring the hateful stares of the shoppers in the store as he pulls his filthy coat tighter around him and heads for the only place that makes any sense to him.

The marina.

He considers stealing a boat and running off to explore the corners of this world, but he's lost the desire to explore. The only thing that sounds halfway appealing is getting piss drunk and blacking out until he forgets what a sham his miserable life has become. He climbs into the first boat he sees, a simple sailboat named '_Calypso'. _Rolling his eyes, he sinks onto the cushion, taking a long swig of his rum and staring into the black abyss of the water.

The sea is a fascinating entity. Sometimes calm, sometimes vengeful. It can both be beautiful and terrifying…sometimes together. Many a night he'd spent lying on the Jolly Roger with Milah in his arms, letting the waves lull them into a gentle slumber after a raucous round of lovemaking. He thinks of her face, olive skin framed by dark hair and light, light eyes. He remembers the way she used to ask him to tell her a story every night.

He remembers after she was gone and he was in Neverland, seeing that boy staring at him with her face. The only thing he hadn't inherited is her eyes. The impish smile and the impossible mop of dark hair…it made Killian _hate_ that child for looking so like her. There was that same yearning for adventure in his eyes…a yearning that Killian had wanted to squash, because all that boy had been was a reminder of what he and Milah couldn't have together.

Now, that boy has a boy of his own, and Killian hates the shame he feels for all he's done to that boy and all of those lost boys in Neverland. He hates that he's no longer cold and unfeeling. That seeing the love Milah's son had for his own child hurt him more than any sword or spell ever could. Seeing his love for Emma…a reminder of what he couldn't have; could never _deserve. _

And suddenly, he's looking into the inky water, thinking about letting himself sink to the bottom while the world slowly fades away…along with his agony. His bottle is empty.

He's alone.

* * *

Lucy Morgan is on her way home from the animal shelter after closing, pulling her wool coat tightly against her body and blinking up at the dark sky. It's going to snow, she can smell it in the air. She's always been keen with weather. She knows that she should get home quickly, before it starts, but as always, she takes the long way so that she can drive by the marina and stare at the water. She's been doing this as long as she can remember, even before the curse was broken and she was still terrorized by false memories of the hideous accident that took her mother from her.

Now she knows that's a false memory, but it's no less terrifying because now she has two memories of her mother's death, and she can't decide which is worse. So, she chooses not to decide at all, instead focusing on just being Lucy Morgan since she failed at being her true self anyway. Lucy can't bring herself to go to her father, even though she knows he's looking for her. Not when he's still living with that…_monster_. It makes her angrier than anything, even though Lucy knows he doesn't know who Octavia really is. And there's nothing she can do about this, because she can't _tell_ him. So, she stays away, keeps to herself and hides behind the nuns who took her in.

She parks near the docks, looking out at the flashing lights from the lighthouse and tries to remember when she was very young and the sea didn't frighten her. She tries to recall when the very thought of being in it wasn't the subject of her nightmares, new and old. She sees a girl, sitting on a rock and wishing for things she couldn't have. She sees a _stupid _girl, who fell in love with a prince and paid dearly for it…is _still_ paying for it.

She sees a man jumping into the icy cold water.

Before she's thought better of it, Lucy is out of her car, running after him, wishing he could hear her voiceless cries. She hesitates only for a moment, looking down into the water. When he doesn't resurface immediately, she removes her coat with trembling fingers and holds her breath as she jumps into the frigid sea, ignoring every instinct screaming at her and swimming as fast as her legs will allow. She sees him, lingering near the bottom of the shallow marina and grabs the sleeve of his coat, dragging him upward, struggling to get them both above water.

Mercifully, there is a security guard on duty, who heard the commotion and sees them surface and helps her by pulling the man out of the water and giving her a hand. Lucy ignores her chattering teeth as she brushes the older security guard out of the way and pushes her long braid off her shoulder, feeling for a pulse. The man is not breathing. She holds his nose and breathes into his mouth, before pushing on his chest as she's been trained to do in first aid. It doesn't take but two tries for the man to cough up water and open his eyes, which are a piercing devil's blue. He mumbles something that sounds like a woman's name, but she can't be sure. One thing that she is sure of, however, is that he is drunk. The smell of alcohol on his lips, paired with the odor of a man who hasn't bathed in weeks, is overwhelming. She nods her thanks to the security guard and, with his help, puts the man into the front seat of her car before grabbing her discarded coat and finding some comfort in its dry warmth.

A feeling of triumph comes over her as she pulls away from the marina with the sleeping man she saved. She's overcome her fear of being _in_ the water…if only she could find it in herself to be less afraid of _what's_ in it. The drive to her small apartment is short and she's able to get the man on his feet long enough to walk him inside and into the elevator. He's still muttering nonsense about 'Milah' and 'Pan', but at least he seems like he's had little to no brain damage.

He collapses onto the sofa, effectively soaking it with cold sea water, but she quickly sees about removing his wet clothing and fetching some towels to dry him and herself. Lucy knows that she's supposed to be modest and worry about decency with men, having been raised by nuns and training to become one herself, but the other side of her – the true side – doesn't even blink as she strips the heavy, foreign clothing off of the man and dumping it into a pile near the door, along with her own wet clothing, dragging on her bathrobe. She has nothing to offer him, in terms of clothing, so she settles for draping a fleece blanket over him and leaving him to sleep it off while she showers.

Her hair is matted with salt and seaweed and is rough to the touch as she removes her braid, letting it fall in wet, unruly red waves to her waist. For a moment, she can almost remember who she used to be, but pushes it out of her mind as she steps under the hot, welcoming spray of her shower. She recognizes the stranger, he's been in Storybrooke long enough for her to know who he is and what he's done, but she recognizes him from before. From back home. She'd seen his ship from time to time…had been warned by her father to _stay_ away. It had, in fact, been a ship like his where she'd first seen the prince she'd saved. And loved. And lost.

She hasn't thought of him in a very long time, that prince, but she still sees his face every time she closes her eyes. Sees that dark, black hair and those sky blue eyes…not unlike the man she just saved from drowning tonight. The irony is sickening. It's as if fate is tormenting her, trying to make her relive her past and face her demons for its own sick pleasure. It's bad enough, seeing her father's face in town, just friendly Ted Morgan who owns the aquarium and is married to beautiful Octavia…the woman he left Lucy's mother for.

But Lucy remembers the truth. Her mother has been dead since she was three. There was no boating accident. Ted never left Rose Morgan for Octavia. She isn't suffering from any Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. No amount of therapy is ever going to make her voice come back. She's not a nun. She's not even human. Maybe it's why the fairies are so welcoming to her. She's a princess, but there was no happy ending for her. True love did not conquer all, because her prince didn't choose her…and his choice cost him his life. It was all very sad, really, because even though the betrayal of his choice still stings and makes her heart ache…she's even more heartbroken that he's gone. Because, she _still_ loves him.

She misses home. She misses her sisters, and music and her friends. She misses _singing,_ maybe most of all. She wants her father back, and she wants to find some shred of happiness in this new life. Working at the animal shelter makes her happy. Helping people makes her happy. But she is not happy. She's alone, and she's a coward with no purpose in life other than to hide.

She remembers a girl who was adventurous to a fault, disobeying her father and sneaking out of her bed at night to go exploring. She thinks of the days when she could find joy in something as simple as a twisted old fork. Her story has been told multiple ways by multiple people, but it never ends the same. Some versions have happy endings…some are tragic. But the point is, they're all different, because her story never _ended. _Lucy is still living it, and trying to decide whether she's better off this way…or if Ariel is still within her.

Either way, she's just a lost little mermaid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still not sure how long this is going to be. It's kind of developing into more than I originally had intended. I apologize for the short chapters. My chapters are usually longer, but this story seems more suited to smaller chapters. :)  
**

* * *

He wonders for a moment if he's somehow made it into Heaven when his eyes open, because light is streaming into the room he's lying in. As his vision slowly corrects itself, he allows himself to take in his surroundings and realizes he's neither dead nor in any form of Heaven. At best he's in somebody's very modest home. The walls are practically bare, save for a gold cross of some sort and a few sparse paintings of flowers and other nonsensical things.

He bolts up, ignoring the blatant pounding in his forehead and tries to stand. The strange, soft fabric covering his body tumbles to the ground leaving him completely and utterly bare. He tries to remember what happened last night, but all he can gather are a few muddy memories of freezing cold water and a flash of brilliant red hair.

He's almost grateful he woke alone on that strangely upholstered lounge. Not that he was ever against a lie down with a beautiful woman…it was only that it was never his intention to embarrass himself by being so drunk he didn't remember the bloody encounter. Nevermind the fact that it wasn't Milah lying beneath him when these so-called encounters occurred.

Bloody Hell.

Never one for modesty, Killian does not even bother to cover his lower half as a young woman walks into the room wearing some horrid blue and white getup involving a shapeless blue cover and a white collar. A shock of auburn hair is braided neatly and pinned at the base of her neck, proving to be yet another waste of clear potential. He'd always admired women with red hair, but he'd never seen one quite like this. Her skin is almost luminescent, though admittedly pale. It's the eyes though, that draw his eye. They are the color of the sea; neither quite blue nor quite green. At a distance, one would think they were blue, certainly, but in this proximity, the detail is apparent.

And at the moment, they're wide with surprise and slight horror as she gapes, silently, at him standing naked in her living quarters. It almost makes him smirk, but he's too irritated with the fact that his suicide attempt has been foiled and he now has a devil of a headache thanks to his over consumption of rum last eve.

She seems to gather her wits, and swallows, straightening her hideous pleated skirt, pointing her finger at the counter nearby. Sitting on it is a pile of what appears to be men's clothing, though Killian can honestly say he recognizes neither fabric, but the awful plaid of the shirt has never been in his taste. Sometimes, in the north, the people had a sick preference for tartan, but that was never his choice.

He stares blankly at the foreign clothing as she brushes past him, careful not to touch him in any way as she moves to what appears to be some kind of cooking apparatus. She opens a strange white cabinet and starts retrieving food from it, placing it all in a neat row on the counter. He watches, fascinated, as she turns a black knob on the odd stove and the fire starts itself. He almost expects her to start humming to herself as she spoons butter into a black frying pan and cracks eggs into a glass bowl, but she doesn't.

He realizes he hasn't heard her voice and they've been in each other's presence for nearly ten whole minutes. He takes the opportunity while her back is turned to attempt to put on the hideous clothing she's provided for him. They fit, though the pants are a little tighter than he'd anticipated. The shoes are not like any he's ever seen. They're the color of wet sand with soft soles and fur interior. Everything is brand new, which means the girl must have bought this for him while he was asleep.

But why?

What motivation could this red haired stranger have for saving him? Everyone in the town knew who he was by now. They'd all witnessed his ill planned confrontation with Rumpelstiltskin and Pan. They'd all seen him make a fool of himself as a revenge starved idiot. They all wanted him locked up or, he was sure, dead. He probably would have been if not for the Swan girl and her son. Even Pan had surprised him and took up for his defense stating that no one was to cause him harm.

Fat lot of good it did.

No one will have anything to do with it and Killian almost wonders if it would have been better if they'd just let them kill him. Of course, he _had_ helped them apprehend Cora, so there was that in his favor. He hated owing people more than anything. And now, he owed this girl his life…which was rather inconvenient to his agenda which involved once again getting piss drunk and figuring out what to do with the rest of his miserable existence.

"Why did you do it, love? Why did you save me?" He asks the girl as she's spooning food onto a plate for him. She glances up at him with those infuriating seafoam blue eyes, her eyebrow quirked. Her lips twitch as though she has some quick fire response for him, but she doesn't open her mouth. Instead, she just turns back to that odd white cupboard and withdraws a carton of what says 'Orange Juice'. She points at his food, shaking her head at him before she returns to cooking.

He stares slack jawed, at that meticulous red plaited coil at her nape. There is not one fiery strand out of place. It irritates him endlessly, because he's never seen hair quite that shade of red and he wants to see what it looks like hanging around her pale, slender shoulders.

Holy hell it's been a long time since he's bedded a woman. And he highly doubts this quiet, buttoned up creature has ever even seen herself uncovered, much less a man. It's a perfect challenge…one he would have gladly taken on in his younger years. But something in her haunted, innocent face makes him want to leave her alone before he ruins her by association. This child can barely be older than sixteen years at most and he doesn't make it a habit to deflower children.

"You're a quiet one, aren't you?" He tries again, spearing a piece of egg with his fork and tasting it. It's delicious in a completely new, simple way. Unlike anything he's ever eaten back home. Again, she glances at him over her shoulder in a way that is completely unnerving, as if she's staring straight through to his soul, baring his many sins. Her eyes are full of words that she isn't voicing and it's making him shift uncomfortably. "What's your name, Lovely?" He sees her smirk to herself, taking a quick huffy little breath as she turns off her stove and fills her own plate, joining him at the counter. And still, she doesn't answer.

She's _toying_ with him.

Nobody toys with Killian Jones and gets away with it. Not even auburn haired sirens like this chit! When she smiles to herself again, a very distant prick of recognition prickles at the periphery of his consciousness, blurry, but present. He cannot place her though. She sees his anger and takes pity on him, holding up a finger to placate him, before moving to her white food pantry and removing a pad of paper from it. She quickly scrawls a note onto it.

'_I can't speak aloud. I am not ignoring you.'_

He doesn't know why, but the tension immediately evacuates and he's almost tired, leaning against the tile counter for support as he tries to lift his fork with his trembling hands thanks to his self-inflicted dehydration.

"Why did you save me?" He asks weakly, feeling his stomach roil as his body finally gives in to the sickness that comes with being intoxicated.

'_Because it was not your time to die, and you were in no condition to make that decision for yourself. I figured I'd let you wait until you weren't drunk and think it over.' _

Her lips are quirked in a half grin, mischief playing in her ocean eyes. A glass of water is thrust into his shaking hand. She points vehemently at it, mouthing 'Drink.' He does, gratefully, finishing the glass in one go. She smiles, satisfied, as she takes the glass and wordlessly, refills it and hands it back again. She then pulls a white bottle from the cupboard over the sink.

_B12._

She pulls out a tablet and sets it in front of him, miming that he's supposed to swallow it with water. Skeptically he stares at her before looking at the strange tablet.

"No way in hell, lass," he refuses, shoving it away. She makes some noise at the back of her throat, rolling her eyes as she turns back to her blasted note pad.

'_It's a vitamin. It will help with your weakness. Take it.' _

"How do I know you aren't some vigilante out to kill me for the troubles I've caused?" He challenges. Once more, she raises an eyebrow at him, half smirking as she sighs.

'_With all due respect Captain, I have better things to do with my time than poison defeated pirates.'_

She stares at him expectantly, nodding back to the pill, pushing it back toward him with her small hand. Glaring at her, he angrily swallows the tablet and nearly chokes as he takes a swig of water. She makes an amused face, laughing soundlessly. It sobers him, leaving him somehow empty. He wants to hear that laugh. Resting his head on his chin, he watches her clear the dishes, frowning at his half full plate.

"What is your name?" He asks again, when she returns to the counter. She tilts her head, giving him a contemplative look as if she's struggling with herself, but she nods to herself a moment later, writing on the pad.

_Lucy Morgan._

"That's your name?" He asks dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. The sudden blush on her porcelain cheeks reveals her lie. He's heard briefly about the nature of the curse giving the residents here two separate identities paired with two separate sets of memories. She bites her bottom lip, turning her face toward the door as if she's thinking seriously about fleeing his question.

"What is your _real_ true name, love?" He presses, unsure of why he wants to know her. It's hard to explain, but 'Lucy' doesn't seem a name befitting someone like her. She's dressed like the infuriating fairies dress here, but he can tell she's no fairy. And there's her face and that glorious hair…too brilliant to be wasted tossing fairy dust to and fro. He remembers her face…perhaps from another life, and it doesn't seem right that her hair should be bound off her neck and confined to the metal prison of pins. Killian has always hated hairpins. Milah knew this and she made sure to wear her hair down for him.

'_Lucy Morgan is my only name.'_ She tells him, keeping her jaw set as she begins to write again, _'As Hook is yours now.'_ He's taken aback by this, because it's proof that they've met somehow. Somewhere. _'I wasn't sure what size shoe you wear, so I bought you a pair of slippers until I can take you to the store. I have to go out. I am training to be a nun, so I must go. We're distributing canned food to the poor today and then I have to go to the animal shelter.' _

"How do you know me?" He demands suspiciously, gazing icily at her. She doesn't even flinch.

'_We both belonged to the sea once. We met when I was little more than a child.'_

Cold memory washed over him as he recalled an auburn haired head surface from the waves after they'd heard the singing. A bad omen Smee swore. The sirens' song had led many a sailor to their deaths. Killian's father had always warned him against the mermaids. Of course, that had been a time when he'd sworn to himself that he'd never end up like his father, but that was a different matter entirely.

"You're a bloody mermaid, aren't you?" Killian murmurs, staring at her. Instantly, the fire is gone from her eyes and they're glistening dangerously. "One of Triton's offspring?" She glares at him, blinking furiously. He watches one lonely tear slide down the gentle slope of her lovely cheek. He can't help himself from reaching across the counter and catching it on his finger just before it reaches her chin. Her eyes widen with fear as something he can't quite make out flashes before his eyes. All he can see is a flash of light and a man falling to the ground. He pulls his hand back as if he's received a shock, stumbling backwards. Her eyebrows furrow at him, obviously confused as to why he's reacting so violently. He brushes it off, and shakes his head.

"Sorry, love," He mutters, "must be residual intoxication." Though the thought of rum or any spirits makes him physically ill. "I should go." He starts toward the door, intent of leaving her alone, but she shakes her head vigorously at him, scrawling on her pad.

'_Triton was my father. I'm the seventh.' _

"Ah," He acknowledges, reaching again for the door. "Well, I'll be going," he affirms again, though he makes no move to leave. Her eyes bore imploringly into his. He didn't need a note pad to see the plea in those aquamarine orbs. They screamed for companionship, even if the stubborn lass was too thick headed to admit to it.

"Damn," He hisses, gesturing in defeat. "What will you have me do, girl? Cook? Clean? Darn socks?" She smiles slightly as she looks down at the notepad.

'_Well you would look quite fetching in a bonnet and apron, Captain.'_ He gives her an incredulous look. The pretty little minx has a wicked sense of humor, which pleasantly surprises him. _'What is your opinion of animals?'_

"In terms of what? Food or companionship?" He asks, rolling his eyes and shoving his hands into the pockets of the rough, ugly fabric of his pants.

'_Either.'_ She answers, grinning wryly at him.

"I prefer them to people," He confesses, "I always have." This elicits a glowing smile from her as she nods. It sends an uncomfortable thrill through his body right down to his toes.

'_I have just the solution.'_ Handing him a coat that she's procured for him as well, she points to his discarded boots and motions for him to follow her.

"What have I gotten myself into with you, siren?" He mumbles, looking down at her proffered hand, sighing. Her eyebrow raises, and her smile widens. Reluctantly he takes her hand and nearly cries out.

"_I'm wondering the same thing."_ He hears her say. But she never opens her mouth. There was no sound. But he heard her. _"I think he's going to be ill!"_

"I'm not going to be ill!" He insists, staring at her in disbelief. "Your bloody poison did the trick."

"_You can hear me?" _She asks, again never speaking aloud as she drops his hand. It falls silent between them again and her face falls in disappointment. Frowning, he takes her hand again, and it happens once more. _'…must have been my imagination. Be realistic, Ariel.'_

"Ariel," He echoes, watching her eyes slowly lift from the floor to meet his, full of hope and wonder and complete terror. "I can _hear_ you." Her face crumples and she buries her faces into her free hand, quietly sniffing. He's frozen for a long moment, staring longingly at the door and wondering how terrible it would be for him to escape this uncomfortably lovely moment. In some odd way, he realizes he doesn't want to. This is the most he's felt in ages…the emptiness almost feels like it's fading for once. The wounds of Milah's absence almost seem less vicious for a fleeting second as her eyes bore into his, wet with tears. And her response to his revelation is crystal clear as her hand tightens around his.

"_Finally." _


	3. Chapter 3

Before Lucy can try to say anything else to him, he's pulled away as if scalded, giving her a baleful glare. If she wasn't still so exhilarated from all of the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she might have found the will to roll her eyes at him. Instead, she can only beam at him, feeling so utterly…_relieved_…that she can barely stand on two legs. It almost makes her think that maybe this curse can be broken, even though she lost the deal. It almost makes her feel like the possibility of normalcy isn't so far out of her reach. It almost makes her wonder if maybe there could be someone out there – perhaps in this town, perhaps not – who could love her. Almost.

But Lucy knows that her chance is gone. It died when Eric didn't choose her. And that's okay. She's accepted it.

Nodding toward the door, she flips the light switch and gestures for him to follow her out of the apartment, turning so he can't see the glitter in her eyes. It's an uneasy silence, settling between the two of them as they walk down a short set of stairs and out to her shabby little car. It's unseasonably warm today, snow turning to rain and turning the white covering the ground to unsightly grayish mush.

"Where are you taking me?" His voice comes, breaking the quiet as they round the corner onto the main street. Without a word, she point to a sign. "Pet shelter? What is that?" Feeling rather surly at the moment, she merely shrugs, keeping her eyes on the wet, uneven pavement. She makes it a point not to look in the direction of the blue building diagonal from the animal shelter, though her skin prickles, knowing it's there.

After she puts the car in park, she holds her hand out, holding her breath and willing him to take it so that she can see if what happened in her apartment was a fluke. He stares at it as if it's some variety of sea urchin, before giving a sigh of exasperation and reaching over with his good hand.

"_I have to go and help make candles for the Miners' Festival,"_ She explains, watching him intently for a reaction. His eyebrows rise slightly, indicating that he has, indeed, heard her. Her body relaxes slightly. _"You attempted suicide last night, Captain. I cannot, in good faith as a nun to be, allow you to be alone when you are a risk to yourself."_

"What, and you think that these people will gladly accept me spending the day with their lot?" His blue eyes are full of cynicism as he sneers.

"_Dr. Thatcher is a good man. He'll show you the same respect you show him," _She assures him, letting go of his hand and getting out of the car. Lucy hears his derisive snort and rolls her eyes, shoving her hands into her pockets. He pauses after shutting the door for a moment, and she wonders if he's going to give her trouble, but that same tired defeat is still present in his eyes, lingering, and he follows her. She feels a twinge of pity for the man, even if he has been a villain for the better part of three centuries. Here, he is just a man…and a man missing a hand at that.

Dr. Thatcher eyes Hook suspiciously when they come into the shelter, but to his credit, he manages to smile kindly at the man he knows to be a dangerous criminal. Lucy considers for a brief moment, taking the vet's hand and seeing if he too can hear her, but she suspects not, so she withdraws her notepad and scrawls down her message.

_This is my friend. He's in need of employ until he can find his place here. Can he spend the day with you?_

Upon reading, Dr. Thatcher looks up at Hook warily, folding his arms and sizing him up. His eyes fall to the arm that's missing its usual adornment. He finally glances at Lucy, who simply adopts a wide eyed innocent look. The vet raises an eyebrow knowingly, but is unable to hide his sudden smile. He knows her too well.

"You are a clever girl, Miss Lucy," He chuckles, sobering and returning his eyes to the scowling man beside her. "We just got a stray in," He explains gently, "He's not in a good place. He's got heart worm and some dermatitis from flea bites."

"And what am I to do for that?" Hook asks snidely, glancing sideways at Lucy, who gives him a look of warning.

"We need to get him to take his heart worm pill and eat some food. He's bones," Dr. Thatcher says, wincing slightly, "But I think, with some love, he'll be just fine."

"Sometimes, love isn't enough," Hook retorts cruelly, though the hard look on his face has fallen some as his eyes flit toward the door into the kennels.

"Sometimes though, it_ is_," Thatcher counters calmly, winking at Lucy, who feels her face become very hot all of a sudden. She reaches out to touch Hook's hand, making him start.

"_I will be here to pick you up around three."_ She observes him closely, noticing the slight nod he gives in acknowledgment. Beaming at the veterinarian, she mouths, 'Thank you,' before giving Hook one last look of warning and leaving the building. She makes a mental note to visit with the new dog later and give him a kiss behind the ears.

This shelter has become a place of comfort for her, since she's been living in constant isolation. She doesn't really make it a point to have friends, though it's tempting to walk by Granny's night after night, seeing people grouped together at tables, clinking their glasses together and laughing. It's been a long time since she's laughed. She thinks of her sisters, and hopes that all of them are safe and happy. Her eyes burn as her guilt gnaws at her gut, knowing that she's the reason that they don't have their father with them anymore.

The rain has reverted to a dull drizzle as she steps out onto the wet concrete. Her eyes fall on the building across the street from the Pet Shelter, making her chest ache as she thinks of the man who owns it, undoubtedly sitting at his desk as he tries to figure out where in Storybrooke his youngest child might be. He doesn't know that the woman he's lived with is the same woman who stole his daughter's voice.

The same woman who stole his freedom.

Ted Morgan doesn't realize that his wife Octavia is really Vanessa. Triton doesn't realize that Vanessa is really Ursula. And neither of them know that their daughter has been less than a mile from him, ensconced with the nuns of Storybrooke, Maine. And it's better that way, really. Because Lucy knows she's caused both Ted and Triton enough pain, and no amount of time with nuns will ever change the fact that she made a horrible mistake and defied the only man who ever truly loved her.

Her father.

"Ev'ryt'ing alright dere, miss?" A voice comes from behind her, ringing vaguely familiar in her ear, though how, she cannot place. Sniffing, she feverishly wipes beneath her eyes and nods, embarrassed that a stranger has seen her moment of weakness. Smoothing her plaited, wet hair, she turns to face the dark skinned man. She doesn't know his face, but his dark, kind eyes widen when he sees her. He's wearing a red polo shirt with a name tag that reads 'Sam.' His gasp is loud and immediate and he rushes toward her, making her back up in fear. "Ah-riel?" And then it's clear to her who he is and she shakes her head fiercely, turning and darting toward her car before he can say anything else. "'E's been lookin' for ya for months, child!" He calls after her, but she ignores him, getting into the old car. She peels away from the curb, unable to look in the rearview mirror as she flees, panic thrumming in her chest.

She cannot allow herself to be found if she wants to protect her father. Octavia cannot know that she's here or she will use her against him. Again.

Lucy is still shaking as she walks into the church, wringing her hands and biting her lower lip. She nearly knocks over a nearby woman, who cries out as she stumbles.

"Lucy! Heavens, child, I didn't see you!" Astrid exclaims, patting her shoulder affectionately. "I'm just heading out to hang the lights." She gives an apologetic smile and hurries out the door, lights in hand. Lucy turns back to the doorway into the room where the others are making candles and finds herself standing before Mother Superior.

"Lucy," She sighs resignedly, looking at another nun and telling her to keep an eye on things, "Come with me, dear. We must have a talk."

'_Have I done something wrong?' _She writes quickly, showing the woman. Her eyes are full of pity, but she doesn't negate the question. Instead, she takes a slow breath, putting an arm around Lucy's slim shoulders.

"Of course not, Lucy," Mother Superior assures her, "But, I am concerned. Leroy was here earlier and he said that he spoke with John from the marina. He told us that you've taken in the pirate. Is this true?" Lucy's stomach drops, her nerves prickling, but she finds the will to nod.

'_He tried to kill himself last night. I couldn't let him. I feel sorry for him.'_

"You shouldn't," Mother Superior responds coldly, "He needs to atone for the sins he's committed against everyone in this town. He's trouble, Lucy. I have to insist that you send him on his way." Lucy has to steel herself against the swell of indignation at the coldness of this woman, who is supposed to be a beacon of compassion. She's learned, since the curse was broken, that though the fairies do good, they aren't exactly the sweetest creatures she's known. Everything they do is for the greater good, regardless of who they hurt in the process. Bristling, Lucy scrawls down her response.

'_With all due respect, Mother Superior, I feel it was my duty as both a nun and a civilian to save that man. It is not up to me to judge him for his wrongdoings.'_

Mother Superior's eyes soften, and she sighs sadly, reaching out to touch Lucy's shoulder. "Dear, sweet Lucy," She murmurs resignedly, "you are not meant for this life. You never have been. I don't know who you were back in our land, but you don't belong with us. We took you in because you needed a place to go, but you haven't needed our protection for a long time, dear. You're strong now."

'_Are you firing me?'_ Her eyes are already full of tears, because she knows the answer to this.

"I am giving you the chance to be free," She responds. "I can't tell you how to live your life or whom to trust, Lucy. But please take my humble advice. That man is using you. He has no love in his heart. Please do not fall prey to him. He is not to be trusted." She pulls out a piece of paper with the photo of a young girl on it. Lucy winces, recognizing her own smiling face. "Look," Mother Superior continues, "These have been put up all over town. I've ignored them out of respect for your feelings and your privacy. But someone out there loves you. And, if I've learned anything from that horrid curse, it's that time is precious. And you shouldn't take it for granted."

'_Is this because of Hook?'_

Mother Superior shakes her head, taking Lucy's hand. "This is because it's time for you to face your past. You aren't a nun or a fairy. But you're somebody who needs to find her own path. I've spoken with Sheriff Swan. She's in need of some filing help. She said the job is yours if you want it." She gives Lucy a business card. "Think about it." Lucy stares blindly at the business card, unseeing through her tears. Vaguely, she feels Mother Superior's arm wrap around her shoulders. "I know you think I'm punishing you, but Lucy, we both know this life isn't what you truly want. It's been a means for you to hide, and that's no way to live. Go, meet a nice boy. Settle down. Have babies." Lucy winces, but allows herself to be pulled into a warm hug. Her mind is adrift with memories of two different lives, both of which had been tragic. Both of which had ended badly for her. She wonders, for just a moment, what she ever did to Queen Regina to make her hate her.

To her credit, the mayor of Storybrooke has been improving upon herself. She helped to defeat her mother and lock her away, effectively saving the town from Cora's wrath. She's been working with Emma Swan to make improvements in the town, fixing up the library and building a high school for the children who are now outgrowing their childish youth and becoming young adults. Though the mayor has been a bit of a recluse lately, she is trying…and that's something. That's better than the utter deception that is Octavia Morgan. No one suspects that beneath her well dressed, dark haired exterior, she's nothing but an evil witch with tentacles.

Not even Lucy's father suspects that he's married to his own worst enemy. It keeps her up at night, wondering why Octavia hasn't revealed herself as Ursula to Ted. Wondering what Ursula is planning. It's no use wondering right now. She says a quick goodbye to Mother Superior and flees to the haven of her car, allowing herself to break down once she's seated behind the wheel.

* * *

The dog is a mess. Well, that's an understatement. The dog has been shaved, but Killian _thinks_ it used to be a sheepdog. The poor, pathetic creature has red blotches all over its pink, abused skin and his ribs are prominent, but his dark eyes are bright with personality and his sad little tail wags at the sight of him.

Killian has never considered himself a weak person. He's rebelled against every warning his conscience has had the bad sense to give him. He'd struck off on his own as a young man and swore to himself that he would never become like his father…a heartless creature with no compassion. The years, no doubt, had changed him. Life for a man of questionable morals was hard enough. Life for a good man was near impossible. The world was corrupt, and at the end of the day, self preservation had led Killian to follow in his father's footsteps to piracy. His mother had died of the sweating sickness when he'd barely been sixteen.

So naturally, it surprises him when his eyes burn at the sight of this wretched, innocent creature standing before him, a victim of human cruelty and neglect. He turns away from it, angry with himself for caring and with Lucy for forcing him to come here and endure this. He's committed his share of sins, undoubtedly, but for some reason, the sight of one sick dog makes him want to curl into a ball and sob.

"Rough, isn't he?" Thatcher's voice comes from beside him. "He came from the outside. Cross the border. People keep talking about wanting to go explore this world, but from what I can tell, this world is not very welcoming."

"Is any?" Killian challenges, scowling and folding his arms across his chest, leaning against the counter in the room. A whimper turns his head and he sees the dog sitting beside him, looking expectantly up at him.

"He likes you," Thatcher observes with clear surprise in his voice, "If you can get him to eat, I'll let you name him." Killian has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

"What makes you think I care anything about this creature?" He asks, glaring at the vet. Maddeningly, the doctor smiles.

"Because he clearly cares for you," Thatcher explains gently, "I've seen many animals in my time, and I can tell you that an animal who has received such poor care should, in theory, be afraid of someone who doesn't care for them. But he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. He senses some good in you, deep as you may have buried it. That's got to count for something."

The vet leaves and Killian internally curses Lucy for dropping her here into this cage so that he couldn't cause any trouble. As if he would at this point. As if being defeated in front of the entire population of this godsforsaken town wasn't enough humiliation. Now, he had to be put to work like a common farm hand. He jumps when he feels something cold and wet on his arm and realizes that the dog is trying to make him pet him. Sighing in irritation, Killian rubs gently behind the dog's ears and shakes his head.

"You should know, I'm only doing this so the flame haired chit doesn't send me off to the Sheriff," He tells the dog moodily, forgetting momentarily that he only has one hand to work with at the moment. "Come on then," He tells the dog resignedly, "I suppose I'd better get you to eat. Y'know, if you were one of my crew, I'd probably force you to eat with threat of deck cleaning duty." The dog gives a small bark of approval in response, which only serves to put Killian in a worse mood as he finds the bowl with some sort of disgusting looking dry brown biscuits in it. "Well no bloody wonder you don't want to eat," He scoffs, turning up his nose, "That food looks bloody awful. I wouldn't eat it either." He sets the food on the ground and watches as the dog sniffs it, then looks up at Killian again. "It's good for you?" He offers sardonically, turning toward the cupboards to try and find something more appealing when he sees someone come into the room out of the corner of his eye. Instinct makes him reach for a sword that isn't there.

A dark skinned man in a red polo shirt is standing near the door with his arms up in surrender. "Forgive de intrusion," He says in a heavy accent, "De doctor said you could help me."

"Help you? With what?" Killian asks suspiciously, petting the dog's head to calm him.

"Dat girl who was here wit you earlier," The man says, "what was her name?"

"What do you want with her?" He demands to know, glaring at the stranger.

"My name is Sam Clawson. De man I work for is her father," The man responds, "'E's been lookin' for her since de curse broke."

"No offense, but don't you think if Lucy wanted a reunion with her father, she would have gone to him?" Killian points out, "I don't think she wants to be found, mate."

"Can you just give 'er a message from me?" Sam asks worriedly. Slowly, Killian nods. "Can ya just tell 'er dat if she wants to talk, I'm 'ere for her?" He steps forward and produces a small piece of paper. "My number is on it. When she's ready, she can call me."

"I'll give it to her, but no guarantees," Killian agrees reluctantly, pocketing it. As he watches the man leave, he debates whether or not he's actually going to give Lucy the information, but decides to decide later. The sound of quiet crunching catches his attention, and he realizes that the dog is eating. It's a strange feeling that spreads through him, his entire chest feels warm…almost uncomfortably so. It's been so long since anything made him feel, well…_anything._ He doesn't like it. In fact, he hates it. He hates that he still has compassion. He hates how that dog looks at him like he trusts him implicitly, even though the dog knows nothing of who he is or what he's done. He hates that he feels completely vulnerable to this pitiful creature with the blotchy skin and uneven fur. He hates that ever time that red haired girl looks at him, he feels naked and unarmed; like she can see right through his eyes into his soul. He _hates_ that she saved him last night. But the worst of it is, he hates that he's grateful for it because, as miserable as his life is (and it _is_ miserable), he'd rather be here alive, hating life, than at the bottom of the ocean, rotting.

But most of all, he just hates himself.

Killian sinks to sit on the floor with his back against the wall, watching the dog carefully eat his meal. He thinks of Milah, long gone now. She's probably nothing but dust anymore, which really hurts. What would she think of him now? He'd sought revenge for her death and had nearly forgotten his promise to her when she'd run away with him.

"_Killian, I may not love Rumple any longer, but I do love my son. Please promise me that no matter what comes of my marriage with him, that no harm will come to Bae at the hands of you or your crew." _

Of course he'd promised. He'd have done anything for Milah. He'd been willing to die for her. And he had kept that promise to the best of his knowledge. Until he'd gone to Neverland and that blasted boy and his band of little friends had decided it was up to them to fight the big, bad pirates. He hadn't even known it was Milah's boy until the child had cut Hook's sleeve and had seen the tattoo of her name and had reeled away. That was when recognition had set in and he'd put it all together. The boy who had adopted the name Peter Pan was really Milah's Bae. And now he was grown with his own boy.

And Milah was still gone.

Something soft pushes against Killian's arm and he notices the dog has finished his meal and has returned to his side, curling up on the floor next to him. Sighing in frustration and defeat, Killian curses under his breath and puts his hand on the dog's shaved head, frowning at the painful looking red patch of skin beneath the gray fur. Silent fury wells in his chest at the sudden urge to punch whomever did this to the poor animal. It makes him cringe, because he'd once struck a woman. It hadn't been his proudest moment, but he'd been desperate. He swore to himself that it wouldn't ever happen again.

He would not be his father.

* * *

Lucy parked in front of the animal shelter in the same spot she'd parked that morning, but this time, she made sure no one was around before she got out of her car. Since being essentially fired that morning, she'd gone home and put on her only pair of jeans and a sweater and had taken her long hair out of the meticulously pinned chignon, letting it fall in heavy waves to her waist. It was strange to see her reflection and not see the demure blue habit that the nuns wear here. It was a girl she didn't recognize anymore. Modest nun had become an eighteen year old girl again.

It seems like a lifetime ago when her favorite past time was swimming to the surface and breaking through the waves to feel the sun on her face even though her father had forbidden it. Once upon a time, her father had feared the land, and the people who resided there. He had always raved about fisherman and how humans were barbarians. How ironic that her father now owned an aquarium. If nothing else, Queen Regina certainly has a sense of humor, twisted though it may be.

Pulling her knitted winter hat more securely over her auburn waves, she hurries into the pet shelter, bracing herself for the fallout of bringing Hook here for the day. Instead, she finds Dr. Thatcher chatting easily with one of the volunteers when she walks in. He looks up, smiling in her direction and waving her over. She quickly writes on her notepad.

'_Did everything go all right?'_

Dr. Thatcher nods, and his eyes are twinkling with something akin to mischief as he leads her toward the back room, where new arrivals are kept when they're brought in until they're ready to interact with other animals. Lucy doesn't know what she expects to find through those doors, but she isn't quite prepared for the reality of it. Sitting on the floor, near the cage is an empty bowl of food, some discarded dog toys and Hook, sitting Indian style with a dog half lying in his lap, asleep.

"Don't think anything of it," Hook says moodily, "The blasted animal just crawled up into my lap and trapped me into—" He cuts off at the sight of Lucy, staring at her with a furrowed brow as if he's forgotten what he was going to say. She notices the pupils in his eyes dilate slightly, before he clears his throat and gently sets the dog down onto the fleece blanket set up over the floor. Dr. Thatcher has quietly left already, shutting the door behind him as Hook approaches her. She notices he walks like a hunter stalking prey. There is a strange, intimidating beauty to it, but Mother Superior's words ring in her head.

_That man is using you. He has no love in his heart. Please do not fall prey to him. He is not to be trusted._

"You look…different," He finally says, standing toe to toe with her. She smirks, despite her nerves and takes his hand, feeling a twinge of fear that he won't hear her anymore.

'_I got fired.'_

She watches his eyebrows raise in surprise, blue eyes gleaming as he chuckles. "What could a quiet thing like you have possibly done to get fired by the nuns?" Before she can respond, however, the smile leaves his face and he sobers. She feels a twinge of disappointment that the moment has been ruined. "It was because of me, wasn't it?" When she doesn't answer immediately, he curses, making her wince. "Bloody judgmental fairy. I have half a mind to go—"

'_Killian, it was not because of you.'_ Lucy cuts him off quickly, sighing. _'My father has been looking for me. She told me I don't belong with the fairies when there's someone out there who loves me. It wasn't because of you. Okay?' _He only stares at her with hard eyes for a few moments, and she notices a slight tick in his jaw, just beneath the light stubble there. The oddest urge to ghost her finger over the spot and soothe his tension comes over her, but she ignores it, glad she's let go of him for the moment. If he had seen it, she may have died of embarrassment.

"A man came in here earlier looking for you," He admits, relaxing slightly. "Do you know a Sam Clawson?" Lucy's stomach drops, remembering her encounter that morning with the man outside. 'Sam'. "I'll take that as a yes," Hook sighs, "Tell me straight love," he continues wearily, "life here isn't any easier…is it?" She shakes her head, mind flying as she wars with her feelings. Tiredly, she takes his hand.

'_Come on, let's go to Granny's for dinner. I could use a cheeseburger.'_

"What's a cheeseburger?"


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd just like to take a sec to thank everyone who is sticking with this and reading it. I'm sure it's full of sad cliches, but oh well. If I wanted to live in the real world, I'd write a diary! Enjoy.  
**

* * *

If there are any redeeming qualities about this land, cheeseburgers definitely are one of them. Killian is sure he's never tasted anything so good, marveling at the burst of flavor in the tender, grilled meat. It's almost enough to make him ignore the smug little smirk that his companion has on her lovely face. He cannot imagine what he looks like to her right now, eating with one hand a food that requires both hands, but he doesn't care. If he had to choose between bedding the siren or eating a cheeseburger at the moment, he'd choose the cheeseburger.

Bloody hell, it's been a long time since he's lain with a woman.

When he's finished, he licks his fingers, noticing her cheeks turn a becoming shade of pink. It makes his lips quirk up in amusement. "Apologies, love. When one only has one hand, one must be…innovative." He gives her a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. She surprises him by snorting in response, though he notices she too is fighting a grin. "Your hair looks very fetching like that," he adds, meeting her eyes, "Much better than that prim and proper plaited disaster that made you look like a spinster." Her ocean green-blue eyes narrow on him, and she raises one eyebrow in response, pointing a warning finger at him before reaching across the table to steal one of his French fries…another delightful perk of this world. Teasingly, he swats her hand away. "Oi! Get your own, lovely!" She's too quick for him and manages to snatch one, triumphantly eating it and snickering to herself.

The smile immediately leaves Killian's face, however, when he notices the Sheriff, her father and the man who was The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up coming toward their table. Pan. Baelfire. Cassidy. Whatever the hell he went by nowadays. Lucy follows his eyes, giving him a questioning look.

"A complication," he mutters, bracing himself.

"Everything alright here?" Emma asks politely, giving Lucy a smile. "Relax Hook," she chuckles, "I'm not here to arrest you. I believe that score has already been settled." Her eyes fall on Lucy. "I'm actually here to talk to you. I hope you don't mind, but Mother Superior gave me your name and—" Lucy cut her off by shaking her head and gesturing for her to continue. "She told me about your situation – sorry about that, by the way – but, I figure, I need some help around the office. David and I are crap at organization." She winks at the blond man.

"Family trait," he adds dryly.

"Anyway," Emma laughs, "I needed someone, and you were recommended. It's not much, but we offer dental." Hook watches Lucy smile, though she looks slightly terrified, but nods anyway, pulling out her notepad. He's known her less than twenty-four hours, but something about that notepad makes him angry. Perhaps it's watching her reactions and then having to write her responses down, but it makes him want to break something, punch someone. Something. Apparently, Lucy accepts the offer, because it's settled that Lucy will start work the following Monday. Killian notices someone watching him out of the corner of his eye and avoids looking at said watcher.

"It's rude to stare, Pan," he mutters, picking at the remnants of his fries and glowering at his crumbs.

"You look like hell," comes the deep voice, barely containing his chuckle.

"Yes well, I suppose I've earned it," He concedes, "How is domestic life treating you?" He asks acidly, giving Emma a fervent glance. She makes a noise of irritation, but cannot hide her smirk.

"You're a piece of work, Hook," she tells him, "You know that, right?"

"I've been called worse," Killian shrugs, winking at her. Suddenly, the Sheriff has him by the collar and is glaring into his eyes with her perceptive hazel irises.

"Listen to me, Buddy," She says quietly, "You do anything to hurt this girl and I will make sure you can never get it up again. Got it?" Killian's pulse quickens, but he nods, watching her carefully.

"Ems," Pan cuts in, looking between the two of them as if he's not sure whether he should interfere or not.

"I can fight my own battles," Killian tells him moodily, falling back as Emma lets go of him.

"Clearly," Pan replies, grinning cheekily at him. It's the same mischievous look he used to get on his face during their encounters in Neverland. Another lifetime. Another land.

"Get what up?" Another (much younger) voice comes from behind them. Emma cringes slightly, turning to her nearly twelve year old son.

"Nothing," She answers swiftly, sharing an exasperated look with her father, who only shakes his head. "Nevermind. Let's go grab Ruby." Glancing back over her shoulder at Killian, she inserts, "I meant what I said, Hook. You hurt her, I will make your life a living hell." They all start away, while Killian feels his blood boil in retaliation.

"Too late!" He growls, though she's already too far away to hear him. A hand covers his, making him look up to see Lucy shaking her head.

'_They're just doing their job, Killian.'_

"Damned power hungry royals, the lot of them," He spits, hating the pitying look in her eyes as she squeezes her hand. Annoyed, he pulls his hand back as their waitress, Ruby, returns. To her credit, she attempts to be friendly with both of them, but he can't help but notice the sideways glance she gives.

"Any dessert for you two?" She asks. Killian does not answer her, looking out the window instead, but sees Lucy writing something down, showing it to Ruby when she's done. The dark haired woman smiles and gives her an affectionate nod. "I'll be right back with—" She lets out a shriek of surprise as a hand wraps around her waist. Turning to face her intruder, whom Killian recognizes as the physician from the hospital, her shriek turns to one of excitement. "Hey you!" She grins, kissing the man on the lips. "You're early…"

"It was a fairly simple diagnosis," he chuckles, pulling Ruby closer and making Killian look skyward in exhaustion. Lucy gives him a warning look, shaking her head again.

"How is Snow?" Ruby asks, concerned. The doctor smiles wryly.

"In shock, but healthy," He laughs, nodding toward the door, where the dark haired young woman had just come in. "Go ask her. It's not my news to tell." The pair leaves, and a few moments later, loud cries and exclamations of excitement can be heard throughout the restaurant. Killian looks pleadingly at Lucy, begging her to let them leave this place full of happy people and their silly, sugary lives. She shakes her head, giving him a cheeky grin. Something about Lucy Morgan disarms him, making him want to smile back, and Killian Jones _hates_ that. He hates that every time he sees her eyes that remind him of the ocean he loves so dearly, that he feels lighter and heavier at the same time. Lucy makes him _feel_. In the past twelve hours with her, he's felt more than he's felt in two centuries. And he doesn't want it. He is perfectly fine being a numb shell with nothing in his heart but revenge.

And then, there's the dog. That wretched, abused dog with no home and no one who loves him, leaving Killian ashamed to say he feels sorry for that animal.

_Love is weakness. _

Cora has said that time and again to him, mocking him for his attachment to Milah. Then again, Cora's lack of love has landed her in a magically sealed vault beneath the town, so really, how smart can she be? The only reason Killian is still free is because of Emma Swan's belief that there is good in him. He isn't particularly fond of her at the moment either, meddling Princess Sheriff.

"Okay," Ruby has returned, beaming warmly at Lucy, "two hot fudge sundaes with extra cherries." Her eyes shift to Killian warningly. "Enjoy," she tells them, though there is a certain frosty tone in her voice. Killian stares blankly at the confection before him, unsure of whether he should attempt to eat or climb it. Lucy jabs a pointed finger in the direction of his spoon and gestures for him to eat, obviously garnering high amusement from his confusion. Glaring at her, he snatches the spoon off of the table and stabs the 'sundae' as Ruby had called it, scooping a bit of the pliant white goo covered in what appeared to be some sort of chocolate. He gives Lucy a suspicious look, sniffing the concoction and watching as she rolls her eyes at him, already halfway finished with hers. It's cold and wet, but smells oddly appealing. Sighing in defeat, he shovels the spoon into his mouth and is greeted with possibly the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. He glances up in surprise, meeting Lucy's laughing green eyes across the table. She nods knowingly, and the pair continues in contented silence, consuming their treats. Killian has had cake before, a few fortunate times in his life. But never has he encountered this cold, sweet, creamy delight in his life. More than a few wicked things run through his mind as he envisions eating it off the smooth skin of a woman.

Bloody _hell_, it's been a long time since he's lain with a woman.

And then there's the matter that the smallest dab of whipped cream remains on the corner of his companion's full, bow shaped lips, taunting him. He's just about to say something when the tip of her tongue absently flicks at it, cleaning it off and setting every damned nerve in his overwrought body on fire. Clenching his jaw, he glowers into the soupy mess of his sundae and eats it until there's nothing left but a small pool of cream in the bottom of the dish.

If he had a left fist to clench, he would.

* * *

Killian is silent on the drive back to the apartment, his mood gone sour for some reason that he refuses to reveal. She's decided not to worry herself with it, instead focusing her efforts on coming to terms with her new life direction. In the span of one day, she overcame her fear of the ocean, rescued a man from drowning and got fired from being a nun. There was also the slight matter of Sam Clawson finding her. She wonders if he's told Ted yet that he saw her this morning, but she already knows he has. Sam has always been unfailingly loyal to his boss…and to her. She bites her bottom lip, aching because she misses her best friend. The two years after Eric's death had been so horribly lonely…and then the subsequent twenty-eight years of the curse had been just as bad in a different way. It's hard to tell which she preferred. Either way, she's still cursed. Perhaps if magic hadn't come to Storybrooke after the curse broke, she may have been able to talk, but she's skeptical. It's been so long since she's heard the sound of her own voice; she doesn't even remember how it sounds. It's so sickeningly, unbearably tempting to go to her father and reveal herself, but she's afraid of what Octavia might do to them if she discovers Lucy's whereabouts.

"What're _you_ so glum for?" Killian asks with a scowl, watching her. She shakes her head immediately, forcing a smile onto her face and shrugging as she touches his hand.

'_Just tired.'_ She assures him, looking back toward the road and praying she's not too obvious, though she can still feel his eyes on her.

"Lucy," He finally says in a different, weary voice, "I'm going to find my own place to stay. I shouldn't be staying with you." She turns to him, surprised.

'_Afraid of a little gossip, are you?'_ She smiles playfully, though she knows she isn't convincing.

"You and I both know that I am not welcome in this town," He mutters. "And I don't need to be owing you anymore than I already do." Lucy tightens her grip on his hand as if this will convey her message better.

'_Killian, you owe me nothing. I have no one else in this town. You're not interfering with anything in my life. Just stay. At least until you find your place.'_

"I'm no good for you, love," He sighs, resting his head against the seat. "You have a family looking for you. People who wouldn't approve of your cavorting with a filthy pirate villain."

'_Oh stop being a martyr," _Lucy shakes her head, smirking, _'Though you do have a point with the filthy thing. Perhaps a shower when we get home?'_

"Home," Killian answers gruffly, though she detects a wistful undertone in his voice, feeling a slight pang in her chest to reach out to him, which is absurd. He doesn't even_ like_ her as far as she can tell. For all she knows, he's plotting to rob her blind and leave. But Lucy knows in her heart that's not true. As awful as Hook would love to pretend to be, she can't help but think maybe all he really needs is to learn how to be human again. If Belle can take on Mr. Gold, why can't Killian Jones be saved too? She knows she's being a bit irrational, but thirty-one years alone will do that to a person.

Lucy puts the car into park and pauses before looking over at Killian, who is watching her expectantly, bemused. She stares at him, unblinking, afraid that the tears in her eyes will fall and betray her desperation, biting her lower lip to hid the slight tremor and keep her face from crumpling.

"Lucy…" His voice is different now. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was frightened. Making a noise of irritation, he reaches across the front seat and takes her by the shoulders. "Come on, lass…you can't. I'm not a comforting sort." She sniffs, unable to keep it back any longer and begins to silently weep, letting out almost thirty-one years of grief. Grief for her mother, father and sisters. Grief for Eric. Grief for Sebastian. And maybe just a tiny bit left over for herself. "You really don't want to be alone, do you?" Hook asks, studying her curiously, though he does not pull her any closer or soften his voice. He's right. He is not a comforting sort. But, Lucy doesn't need to be coddled. She just needs to be heard. And that's what this is. Killian is the first person who has heard her in _thirty_ years. "I see," he says, hearing her thoughts. "I can't imagine what it must be like for you, love. Trapped inside your own mind. Watching everyone else enjoy their lives."

'_Please,'_ She begs, despite her best efforts not to, _'Don't leave. Not yet. Just stay with me a little while.' _

"Lucy," His voice is not harsh, but it is not particularly kid either. "You don't know what kind of a person I am. The things I've done."

'_You don't know the things I've done either,'_ She challenges, wiping fruitlessly at her eyes. _'It's my fault.' _

"Darling, I'm not a priest. Nor do I have any right to judge your sins," He nods toward the apartment building, "Now, shall we go inside where it's warm and dry or sit out here in this contraption you drive waiting for the snow to get heavier?"

'_Does this mean you'll stay?'_

"For now," He allows, nodding reluctantly before letting go of her hand and opening his door. She composes herself and does the same, glancing around at the heavy falling snow. It's beautiful and serene. Before she'd come to this realm, she had never seen snow or ice. As Lucy, she hadn't appreciated the beauty of it. Now, with Ariel's memories back, she could stare in wonder at the simplicity of the flakes languidly drifting to the ground and covering the world in diamonds. She thinks of her closest sister, Alana, and wonders what she is doing right this moment. Is she happy? Is she sitting at her vanity and brushing her hair a hundred times before bed as usual?

Is Attina putting her baby daughter to bed and singing the same melody that Athena used to sing to them when they were young?

Is Aquata compulsively following the younger girls around, picking up after them and being the mother they still desperately need?

Is Andrina still outswimming the boys and cracking inappropriate jokes at their expense?

Is Arista still obsessed with boys and stealing everything from jewelry to hair combs from her sisters?

Is Adella planning her wedding to Percy and picking out flower arrangements?

"Lucy?" Killian's voice echo's through the tranquility of the winter night and she takes a deep breath, pushing it from her mind again. She nods to him, glancing back one more time and imagining she can see them all, smiling. She needs to believe that somewhere, they are safe and happy. Lucy has to believe that there is still good in the world, any world. Which is why she has to put her faith in Killian Jones. Because anything is better than nothing…

Isn't it?

* * *

Killian is surprised when he finds that Lucy has seen about getting him some new clothes. More of the hideous denim and flannel shirts. The strangest of the lot, however, are the brown work boots. Neither of them acknowledges the fact that they've been thrown together somehow, connected by some tenuous phenomenon. They share a look. Just one brief, meeting of eyes that says everything.

He doesn't like what he sees there, in her light ocean aqua eyes, because it reminds him of himself. He sees sadness. Loss. But there is also something that he hasn't seen in a very long time. Something that he hasn't _felt_ since Milah's heart was crushed and she died in his arms.

Hope.

Lucy is hope. And that terrifies him, because he doesn't want to feel that. He doesn't _want_ to feel again. The first time he'd lost hope had nearly killed him. He can't risk it again. It keeps him up that night, lying on the sofa and staring at the shadows on the walls as he hates himself for wondering if she's alright in the next room. He tries. He _really_ tries not to care. He doesn't _want_ to think about her brilliant auburn hair or porcelain skin.

Lucy is nothing like Milah. She's smaller, more delicate. But more than that, Milah had been married, had a child by the time Killian had met her. She'd lived her youth. Lucy is purity itself. She is a guileless creature who is made of pure light. And that is the exact reason why Killian has to leave her be, because he will ruin her if she allows him to remain in her life. He isn't sure how, but he somehow gets up off of the sofa and creeps toward her open bedroom door. The silvery light from the streetlamp outside is streaming through her blinds, giving just enough light to illuminate her pale face. She looks like a little girl lying there with her face unmarred by stress or guilt. He cannot stop himself from crossing to her bed and gazing down at her, conflicted by his own emotions and his conscience. Killian cannot do anything but give in as he trails a gentle finger over her smooth cheek, feeling his brows furrow and his jaw tighten. He tries to remember her as a mermaid, but comes up blank. Undoubtedly, she had been magnificent. That idiot of a prince deserved what he'd gotten for not choosing her.

But then again, who was Killian to judge that prince? How was the prince different from Milah, who had chosen him? Why had it been right for that prince to die when he'd only made his choice, same as Milah? Who was Killian to judge anyone? He, who had fought children and wielded revenge on innocent people. He, who had stolen a woman from her husband and child?

He knew he had to leave Lucy alone, if not for her own good, then for his. It had been bad enough for him to love the first time. A second would be tempting fate. He will leave. He _will_ be the better person and let her go for the greater good. Soon.

Killian is gone before Lucy is awake, deciding that a long walk through the frigid air is just what he needs to clear his mind. He doesn't mind the cold. It's refreshing in a way, making him feel almost free. He is amazed by the way he can see his own breath as he walks. Dr. Thatcher is already at the pet shelter when he arrives, numb but awake as he enters the warmth of the building. The man smiles at the sight of him.

"Well, well…you came back," the man muses pleasantly.

"It seems, my friend, that our little Miss Lucy is quite the little manipulator," He answers curtly, though his lips twitch slightly upward, threatening a smile.

"She's good, that one," Thatcher agrees, chuckling and nodding toward the room where the sheepdog is being kept. "Someone has been waiting at the door ever since you left last evening." Killian attempts to ignore the speed of his pulse as his eyes flit toward the double doors, unable to find it in himself to scowl. The second the doors open, he is knocked onto the floor by a blur of white and gray.

"Argh, you wretched cur," He groans, laughing despite himself as he sits up, pushing the dog off of him and wiping his face with his sleeve. "I see you're feeling better." The dog barks, wagging his sad little nub of a tail enthusiastically. "I see…" He says, answering whatever question the animal was asking him and looking up around the room for the treat jar, noticing a poster on the wall.

_HELP ANIMALS TO THE MAX BY VOLUNTEERING._

"Hmmm," Killian murmurs, walking toward it and letting his fingertips rest atop the dog's soft head. "Y'know pup," He comments, looking down at the creature, "I think I just may have found you a name." The dog seems to understand him, quirking an ear upward in dubiously. He crouches before the dog and scratches carefully behind his ear. "What would you say about…Max?"

Max's only response is to slobber all over Killian's face…again.

* * *

**I know you guys didn't think I'd write about The Little Mermaid and not include Max! More on the backstory of Ariel/Lucy's curse soon. **


	5. Chapter 5

_She's failed. In a little under an hour, the sun will set and she will belong to her father's mortal enemy for eternity. Eric is going to marry Vanessa and then what? Ursula can't keep up the charade forever. Ariel is sure that he too will be collateral damage in the witch's plan to overthrow the King of the sea. All because she had been stupid enough to believe three days was a long enough time to make somebody love her. And yet…_

_She loved him. _

_From the moment she had laid eyes on his lean, athletic form and gentle blue eyes, the color of sky, she'd known he was special. Which was why, when he'd fallen overboard, she had come to his rescue and had saved his life. _

_When this had all began, she had been so hopeful…so naïve. Foolishly, she had thought that Ursula would give her a fair chance. She'd thought that not having her voice wouldn't matter, if Eric could truly love her. Everything had been going perfectly. Until he'd found Vanessa on the beach just yesterday evening and had immediately deemed her the woman of his dreams. They are, at this very moment, aboard a wedding ship with Vanessa set to become his Princess. _

_Only it's not Vanessa he's marrying. It's Ursula. Ariel had known the moment she'd spoken that Ursula was using _her_ voice! Eric thought that she had been the one to save him the night of the storm. And there is nothing Ariel can do to convince him otherwise, since he remembers her singing. What an idiot she was. She's lost everything due to her own stupidity. Sebastian creeps over to her, watching in concern as she stares, tormented at the setting sun. She gives him a look of defeat, expecting his inevitable 'I told you so,' and mouths "I'm sorry" to him. He shakes his head, letting her know that he understands why she did it. _

_So many lives ruined thanks to her. _

_She considers, for just a moment, jumping into the ocean and allowing herself to sink to the bottom with no gills to breathe for her. It would only take a few minutes and then she'd be free. It would all be over. She stands suddenly, seeing her chance and races toward the edge, prepared to fling herself off of the edge of the dock when she collides with something, or rather, some_one. _She backs away, staring at the stranger in confused fear. He looks foreign to her. Nothing about him is natural. He's dressed in some sort of a reptilian skin vest, but it's the skin that is alarming. It's scaly and gold. _

"_Hello, Dearie…" _

* * *

Lucy sits bolt upright in bed, sweating and panting as she glances around her bedroom, wiping her bleary eyes with the back of her hand. It isn't the first time she's had this nightmare. It's been a recurring thing since the curse was broken. Her tangled hair falls around her shoulders and over her face in heavy red waves, like a curtain. Trembling, she gets up out of bed and puts on a pair of leggings with knee high boots and a tunic shirt. She really is going to have to go shopping and get some more casual clothes now that she's no longer wearing navy blue skirts and cardigans. She glances in the mirror, brushing her hair and considering what she should do with it. She could just pin it up like usual, but the knowledge that she no longer has to stops her from doing so.

"_Your hair looks very fetching like that…" _

Biting her lower lip, she quickly pins the front back, off of her face, leaving the rest hanging free and trying to convince herself it's because it will keep her warmer, though she knows that's not the reason. It's pathetic, this desperation of hers. Begging a pirate to sleep on her couch. Even Arista would tease her for this one. She wishes her sisters were here. They would know what to do. Aquata was always her go to sister for advice. She can just picture Aqua's face as she would recount the story of saving Hook and bringing him home with her. Aqua would have some words of wisdom, whether they were warning her away from the pirate or telling her to take a chance on someone as lost as she is.

But her sisters aren't here. And Lucy's gut is telling her that Killian still has goodness inside him. She's already lost everything, so it's not like she has anything else to lose. And she can see it in his eyes, the man he tries so desperately to hide behind the heartless pirate he masquerades as. His eyes are blue, though they're not the same blue as Eric's were. His were very light, practically the color of ice while Killian's eyes are a shocking, devil blue. It had been the first thing she'd noticed about the pirate, years before when they'd met and her father had mistaken him for his father.

The pirate who had killed her mother.

Triton hadn't always been so strict. In fact, before Athena's death, _he'd_ been the fun parent. He'd been the one who couldn't tell his girls 'no', and let them stay up past their bedtimes. There had been a time when Lucy Morgan didn't exist, when a handsome king had taken his youngest daughter on an adventure. He'd showed her a cave that had once been his playground. It was full of treasures he'd collected over the years from shipwrecks and the shore. There were things beyond her wildest dreams in that cave. Dolls and instruments and _shoes._ Those had been her favorite. Jeweled slippers that were made of pink satin that would forever been a fascination of hers as she imagined wearing those slippers on feet she didn't have.

When she had been Ariel.

After her mother's death, Triton had become overbearing and painfully protective. The Princesses were to be guarded at all times. If they wished to leave the palace, they had to have someone with them. It became unbearable, especially for the older girls, who were just becoming young ladies and trying to fall in love. It hadn't been until a decade after Athena's untimely demise that Ariel had finally gotten tired of being essentially in a cage, and had snuck out through the servants' quarters. It had been that night that she'd rediscovered the cave that her father had showed her so long before, and had made it her own. She'd begun collecting things to add to it. A music box with two people dancing. A painting. Brightly colored fabrics. Treasure was never her preference…those things were her treasure.

As Lucy moves into the living room, she stops dead, glancing around the empty area, searching for her houseguest. The pillow and blanket he used are folded and neatly placed at the end of the sofa, and his coat and boots are gone. Her pulse quickens in panic as she realizes he's left. She remembers his words from last night, that he should leave her alone and her pleading with him to stay. How ironic, she thinks. There is only one person in this world that she can talk to, and he doesn't want to be near her. This must be punishment for her idiocy. That's when she sees the note on the counter on her flowery notepad.

_Lucy-_

_I haven't abandoned you. I've just gone to that blasted animal shelter to make sure the mongrel hasn't gotten uglier or thinner. _

_-K_

She rolls her eyes, but is unable to stop herself from smiling anyway. Killian is so determined for people to perceive him as a villain, but even through his harsh words, the goodness in him is blatantly obvious. The ground (and her car) are completely covered in snow, which is not one of Lucy's favorite things about this world. If she could get rid of anything from this land, it's snow. Trudging through the snow, she manages to dig through the snow and find the door handle, wincing as the cold seeps through the hole in her worn knit gloves.

Fifteen minutes later, her car is drivable, though she's slightly worse for the wear. Her coat is practically useless, the material soaked through to her clothes. Her toes are a little numb and she's pretty sure her nose is still on her face even if she can't technically feel it anymore. The heat in her car always takes a while to kick in, so she shivers in the drivers' seat, waiting for it to stop blowing cool air and start actually doing its job. Backing out of her parking spot, she frowns as the brakes grind slightly under her foot, though she attributes it to the fact that her car is past its prime. It isn't until she gets almost to Main Street that she realizes something is really wrong with it. As she pulls up to the four way intersection near town hall, the light turns yellow and then red.

But her car doesn't stop.

And the ice on the ground doesn't exactly help. Lucy's heart begins to beat frantically as she slams fruitlessly on her brakes that no longer work. If she had a voice, she would be screaming, but instead, grips the wheel until her knuckles are white. The world becomes a blur as her car skids sideways on the ice for a moment, before crashing into a telephone pole and whipping her head forward into the steering wheel. She hears voices for a moment, before slipping into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Sit, you slobbering mutt," Killian chuckles, holding up a piece of bacon from his lunch to the dog, who lets out a pleading yip. The dog is showing signs of improvement already, which actually has him in a good mood. It makes him wonder (though he would never admit this to anyone) what it would be like to settle down in Storybrooke. It makes him feel hopeful that the remainder of his life without Milah may not be so horrid.

For a moment anyway.

Until crushing guilt gnaws at the back of his mind, reminding him that any life without Milah is no life at all. He'd had his chance at happiness and it had been crushed in Rumplestiltskin's hand with her heart. He has no business finding any happiness that doesn't involve avenging her death.

Which is why he can't stay with Lucy Morgan much longer, because being near her affects him. She makes him think about trivial things like dogs and the possibility of raising a child or two in a stable home…something he's never had. His father had been absent most of his life and his mother has been dead since he was very young. He has no idea what a good parent is supposed to be, but Lucy makes him think about trying anyway. She's a nuisance. A distraction from reality.

Killian hates distractions.

If anything, he's a pessimist. Always has been. He's never been a dreamer. The other residents in this hideous little town may have lived a fairytale, but his life has been anything but. He scowls, realizing his good mood has turned sour. He tosses the bacon to the dog.

"Just take it, you frustrating wretch," He grumbles, stalking away from the animal, toward the garbage can and starting as he sees the tall, slender form of a woman standing in the door with a grim expression on his face. "What've I done now, Sheriff?" He inquires, looking away from her.

"So your sunny disposition extends to poor helpless animals now, I see," Emma murmurs dryly, though Killian notices her green eyes dart about nervously. Her normally porcelain skin is even more pale than usual.

"What is it, Swan?" He asks, glaring impatiently at her as the dog nuzzles at his hand.

"It's uh…" She takes a breath, "It's Lucy. She was on her way here, apparently, and her brakes on her car went out."

"What the bloody hell does _that _mean?" Killian asks, unsure of what a "brake" even is.

"Well," Emma starts, "The brakes on her car. She was in an accident, Hook. She's okay," She inserts quickly, seeing the stricken expression on his face, "Just a little banged up and scared. She's at the hospital."

"The _hospital?_" He cries, already reaching for his coat. "The sodding _hospital? _Damn it, Swan! How did this happen?"

"I'm not really sure," Swan admits reluctantly, running a hand through her hair, "But David checked out the car…it looks like someone cut her brake line. I think someone is targeting her."

"Who would ever want to target a timid chit like Lucy Morgan?" Killian fires at her, feeling anger surge through his veins. "I don't think the girl has ever offended anyone in her life. She's barely eighteen for Calypso's sake."

"I know," Swan nods, leaning against the counter, "Look, I don't know how close you two are…"

"We aren't," he warns acidly, making her smirk. "Don't assume _anything,_ Swan."

"I wasn't," She counters, "I was actually hoping you could help me shed some light on her…you know…who she was…_there."_

"Why?" His eyes narrow on the Sheriff suspiciously, watching as she picks absently at a thread on her leather coat.

"Because if I know who she _was_, I can figure out who might want to_ target _her. Lucy Morgan is undoubtedly innocent, but for all I know, she could have been a con artist back in fairytale land," Emma points out, patting Max's head carefully and murmuring something about bringing Henry to see him.

"If Lucy Morgan is an innocent, then her original identity is even more so," Killian retorts.

"Who is she?" Swan asks again as he wars with his conscience to stay quiet, though he trusts Swan…always has.

"If I tell you, you _will_ swear to protect her," He begins gruffly, making her eyes widen, though she doesn't respond other than to nod. "I met her a few years before the curse was cast. At sea. There's a saying among pirates that when you hear singing, you turn your ship and sail as far and as fast away from the sirens' music."

"Sirens?"

"Mermaids. They're said to lead men to their deaths. But this one was just a girl. My men were asleep, and I was on deck when I heard her singing. Her name was Ariel."

"Ariel?" Swan's tired voice comes, "As in, _Little Mermaid_ Ariel?"

"The very same."

"Perfect," She sighs, rubbing her eyes. "Where's her prince guy?"

"Dead," Killian tells her curtly, making Emma blanch visibly.

"So much for happy endings," Swan mutters.

"Happy endings are myth, love," He states bitterly, "We may find true love, but we spend the rest of our sad little lives trying like hell to keep it. Look at your parents."

"Maybe that's what makes it worthwhile," She counters, though he notes there is no sarcasm in the Sheriff's voice this time. "Hiding behind cynicism doesn't make you strong, Hook." She exhales impatiently, gesturing toward the door, "Come on…I'll drive you to the hospital."

"What makes you think I want to see her? I barely know the girl," He insists dismissively, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart.

"Call it intuition," Emma replies, amused. Reluctantly, Killian follows her out to her odd little vehicle.

"This contraption is quite possibly the most pathetic little excuse for transportation I have ever seen," He quips acidly, making her laugh.

"Yeah, yeah…well, I couldn't afford a ship, so this'll have to do," She returns. Killian stares uncomfortably out the window, impatiently drumming his fingers on the door. "She really is okay, Hook." Swan breaks the silence, "She's just a little bruised. Has a bump on her head. Which brings me to my next point…Lucy can't sleep for the next twenty-four hours. Dr. Whale said he doesn't think she has a concussion, but he doesn't want to take any chances, so since you're staying with her, it's up to you to keep her up."

"Lovely," He groans, though he can't really bring himself to protest. He does owe the girl his life, after all. It's his obligation to see her through. Once his debt to her is paid, he will be on his way. He hates owing people. That's all.

Sam Clawson is in the waiting room when Killian and the Sheriff arrive at the hospital. There is another, taller man with him, in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His tie hangs loosely around his collar, undone. He has white hair and a well groomed beard. It's the air of authority and the commanding presence, however, that tells Killian who this man is.

Triton.

From the striking ocean blue eyes to the barely reserved power in his broad shoulders, this is one of the only men who has ever intimidated Killian Jones. But, right now, he's Ted Morgan, and he wants to see his daughter, who is apparently refusing to allow him entrance into her room. He looks up when Killian and Swan come into the room, and his eyes narrow suspiciously at him, nearly making Killian roll his eyes in exasperation.

"No," Triton shakes his head, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "You stay _away_ from her, Hook."

"Actually," Emma inserts apologetically, "She's been asking for him."

"Perhaps it is not _me_ you should be warning away, Your Majesty," Killian answers smugly, leaning against the wall.

"Nice," Emma scoffs, giving him a baleful look.

"What game are you playing?" Triton fires at him, glaring with all of the intensity of a man who can command the seas with a wave of his trident.

"S'not my game, milord," Killian answers, "Your daughter saved my life. I owe her a debt. She'll come to no harm by my hand."

"It's not de _hand_ we worry about," Clawson retorts, folding his hands.

"Um," Swan interjects, "Pissing match later? I've got a girl with a bump on her head who wants to see this idiot," Her eyes flit to Killian, "Mr. Morgan, I promise I will try to convince her to allow you in. But, unfortunately since she's legally an adult, I can't force her. You understand."

"You understand, Sheriff, that it has been nearly thirty-two _years_ since I've seen my child," Triton tells her gruffly, "How would you feel if that handsome little boy of yours—"

"Alright, that's enough," Another voice says as the Prince Deputy enters the room and steps between the former king of the ocean and the Sheriff Princess. Killian can't help thinking that he'd love a sip of rum…or a bottle. "Emma, take him in," The Prince says, motioning to the door. Killian does not hesitate to follow her as they leave the tension in the waiting room.

Lucy is sitting up in the bed, pale and smiling at the doctor as he speaks to her. But Killian doesn't notice what he's saying, because his eyes fall to the ugly bruise around her right eye. His hand clenches instinctively into a fist and he has to suppress the urge to break something. By some miracle, he manages to hold it together.

"I see you're still in one piece," He tells her dryly. She rolls her eyes at him, but nods, holding her hand out for him. He stares at it as if it's a foreign object, but takes it at her insistence.

_It's worse than it looks._

"It bloody well _isn't,_" Killian snaps, "You could have been killed."

_It wasn't that bad._ She gives him an imploring look.

"Oh, _clearly,"_ He tells her moodily, "Your eye looks sodding brilliant, yeah? Not that bad…" He hisses through his teeth, annoyed with her dismissal. "Has it not occurred to you that someone tried to murder you? I may not know much about this world, but from what I can tell, an automobile needs a brake line."

_It was just an accident, Killian. _

"Are you…_talking_ to her?" Emma asks incredulously. "You can hear her?"

"No," He snips irritably, "I just enjoy looking like a total git."

_Don't be mad,_ Lucy pleads with him, looking up at him through her long eyelashes in that frustrating way of hers. A siren trick. He glares at her.

"I _am_ mad, Lucy!" He growls, "Someone is trying to off you, and you don't even bloody _care_ about it!"

"You _can_ hear her," Swan gasps.

"Yes, a lovely advantage, I'm sure," He groans. "Hearing the thoughts of an eighteen year old girl."

_Technically, I'm forty-eight._

Killian gives her a tired look, though he cannot suppress a snort of amusement, shaking his head at her. The sound of arguing outside the door causes him to grip her hand tighter and turn toward the door. Emma frowns, sighing and giving Lucy a pleading look.

"Lucy, I know you don't want to see him, but your dad really wants to see you."

_No._

"She said no," Killian answers for her, earning a glower from the Sheriff. Emma puts up a hand to silence him, moving toward the bed.

"Look, Lucy…" She sighs, "You see that handsome, striking blond guy out there? That's my father. And I spent my entire life thinking I was abandoned. I'll admit, it was a little hard to get used to at first, but I'm really _really_ glad I have him. Your father _loves_ you, Kid."

_I can't face him. It's my fault._

This gets his attention.

"What is?" He inquires with morbid curiosity. What could this child have possibly done that was so terrible as to make her push her family away? From what Killian remembered of Triton, he was fiercely protective of his girls. At her questioning look, Killing spoke to Swan. "She said 'it's her fault.'"

"Lucy," Emma takes pity on her, "He's your family. Just let him see you're okay. If you do this for me, I promise, I'll make him leave if that's what you want."

_You don't understand. It's her! _Lucy's voice is screaming in her mind, _His wife is _her.

"Her?"

"Her?" Emma echoes, furrowing her brows and folding her arms.

_Ursula._

Killian's blood runs cold. He knows that name. Too well, in fact. He'd thought – no – _hoped_ that she was dead. He regretted many of the enemies he'd acquired over the years, true enough, but he even more regretted making the sea witch an ally…more than that, a lover. He'd used her to escape his father when he'd been a mere boy of seventeen, but he soon learned that there are some people you don't cross.

"Ursula," He tells Emma, who frowns in confusion.

"Octopus lady with the bad makeup job?" She questions dryly.

"That is one of her favored looks, yes," He concedes, "If you thought Cora was bad, Ursula is so much the worse." Turning to Lucy, he asks, "Where is she?"

_My father is married to her._

"Bloody hell," Killian groans, "I'll give Regina one thing, she has a wicked sense of humor, no?"

"What?"

"Lucy's father…Ted Morgan…King _Triton_ is _married_ to Ursula. His mortal _enemy,"_ He lets go of Lucy's hand and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Well that…_sucks…_" Emma offers weakly, "Sometimes, I miss my biggest problem being my criminal record. Does he know?" Lucy shakes her head, swallowing and fumbling for Killian's hand again. He allows it, hesitantly clasping their palms together.

_No one knows it's her. But I know._

"How can you be sure?" He presses, sitting in the chair beside the bed. "Do you have proof?"

_No. I just…know. _

"I'll look into it," Emma assures her. "I promise. You're my employee now, Lucy. I'm going to keep you safe. Alright?" She crouches on the opposite side of the hospital bed so she and Lucy are at eye level. "But I want you to do something for me, okay?" Lucy looks to Killian, who nods his assent, though he keeps a wary eye on Swan. If she thinks he's going to stand aside while an innocent like Lucy walks willingly into the clutches of the likes of that witch, she's mistaken. "I want you to let your dad in."

Killian watches the girl's eyes fill with tears as she lets go of his hand and looks down into her lap, letting her auburn hair fall around her face and shielding her expression from him. It makes him angry, because this is a burden he didn't want. If he'd have given up his ill-advised revenge plot earlier, none of this would have ever happened. He'd be happily drinking himself into a stupor on his ship with a wench or two in his bed. He'd be at sea, where his problems couldn't follow.

He'd be alone.

Lucy says yes.

* * *

"_You look surprised, Dearie," The man says, grinning from ear to ear at her. "Having a bad day?" She shrugs, unable to speak to him. She isn't sure what to make of this creature, but she has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Well, I'm here to help." He makes a low bow. "Rumplestiltskin at your service." _

"_Ah-riel," Sebastian's voice interrupts, "Don't listen to dis man. 'Tis bad news." _

"_Nonsense," Rumplestiltskin laughs, "I'm here to offer you a deal." He snaps his finger and with a wave of his hand, Ariel can feel a heat in her throat. Her hands fly up to touch the skin there. "Go on, Dearie. Give it a try." The imp urges. _

"_I can't—" She cuts off, gasping at the sound of her own voice and nearly collapses into tears at the relief she feels. "I can speak!" _

"_That you can, Dearie!" He exclaims excitedly, clapping his hands. "I'm here to make a deal with you." _

"_Do _not_ make a deal wit him, Ariel!" Sebastian protests. _

"_Let's hear him out," She insists hopefully, desperate for a chance to change her fate. Turning back to the man, she puts her hands out. "What's the deal?" _

"_I help you crash the wedding of your handsome Prince and profess your true wuv to him," He answers simply with a shrug. _

"_What's the catch?" She asks, ignoring the dread in her gut. _

"_Ah yes!" Rumplestiltskin nods, "My fee. If you succeed and Prince Eric does indeed choose you over the lovely Vanessa, my only payment shall be that you name your first child a name of my choosing." _

"_That's it?" Ariel asks incredulously, "Just the name?" _

"_That's it!" He nods. _

"_And if she don't succeed?" Sebastian demands, making Rumplestiltskin look down at him with glee. It unnerves Ariel. _

"_Well that's another matter, I'm afraid," He tells them, "If the prince chooses Vanessa, you lose your voice permanently and you can never return to the sea. All magic comes with a price, Dearie." _

"_No!" Sebastian cries, "Ariel listen to me! Dis is not de way!" _

"_Deal!" Ariel agrees, before she can think better of it. An instant later a contract is produced and she signs it just as she signed Ursula's contract three days prior. She's sure she can win Eric with her voice. She can prove to him that it was her who saved him the night of the storm. She'll sing. _

_With a snap of Rumplestiltskin's fingers, she's suddenly dressed in a green gown. "Fit for a Princess!" He nods approvingly. She looks back at Sebastian one last time, before she finds herself standing on the deck of the ship where Eric is marrying Vanessa. _

"_Stop!" She cries, running down the aisle. Eric turns and his blue eyes widen at the sight of her, surprised by the sound of your voice. "Eric!" _

"_Ariel? You can talk!" _

"_Eric, Vanessa isn't who you think she is…she's not the one who's voice you heard when you were rescued," She tells him breathlessly. _

"_How do you know about that?" Eric asks, letting go of Vanessa's hands and moving toward her. _

"_Because it was me, Eric," Ariel says, smiling. Her eyes fall on Vanessa, who looks positively furious. _

"_She's lying," Vanessa says, but everyone gasps at the sound of her voice. No longer does she sound like a lyrical little mermaid. Eric looks back at her, horrified, before turning back to Ariel. _

"_I'm not lying, Eric," Ariel says, humming the tune she sang to him and watching his jaw drop as his eyes fill with recognition. "I saved you. I'm a mermaid, Eric. I made a deal with this woman to make me human. I love you, Eric." She sees the corners of his mouth turn up into the beginnings of a smile, before his eyes grow suddenly cold and he shakes his head. _

"_I'm sorry, Ariel. I'm marrying Vanessa. I love her." He turns away and walks toward his bride as Ariel stares in disbelief at him. She tries to cry out to him, but no sound comes out. Ursula gives her a smug smile, pulling him into a passionate kiss. When they pull apart, Rumplestiltskin appears out of thin air beside Ursula, who gives him a smirk. _

"_You do play dirty, Rumple," She chuckles, opening her hand and producing a vial of black liquid. _

"_I believe we had an agreement," He counters, "The ink if you please, Dearie." _

"_As promised." Comes Ursula's reply. Ariel looks desperately to Eric with burning eyes, praying silently that he's confused. That he's under a spell. But he's staring at Ursula with a blank expression, forgetting that Ariel even exists. He's made his choice. Rumplestiltskin pockets the liquid and withdraws something red and glowing from a pouch. She squints, trying to see what it is. It resembles a heart. She watches as the man begins to squeeze it and Eric falls to the ground. _

_Rushing forward, she pulls him into her arms, cradling his head in her arms as he looks up into her eyes. She blinks back tears as his hand comes up to touch her cheek. "I'm sorry." A moment later, the light leaves his eyes and he falls limp, the life leaving his body. She huddles over his lifeless form, silently sobbing into the front of his suit, trying to remember how the light blue of his eyes became brighter when he laughed and his entire face lit up when he laughed. The sound of Ursula's mad cackle of triumph can be heard as chaos reigns around them, with the guests abandoning ship into lifeboats. Rumplestiltskin pauses, nearing her. _

"_Apologies, Dearie," He says casually, "It's nothing personal. Just business." He holds up his vial of black liquid and nods to himself before disappearing. _

* * *

Lucy looks up, clinging to Killian's hand as she prepares for her father to come into the room. She steels herself to send him out as soon as possible, despite the fact that she wants to fling herself into his arms and cry for a year. She wants nothing more than to be his little girl again. But, she can't risk his safety. She doesn't want Octavia to finish what she started before the curse.

"I'm going to send him in now," Emma tells her. Lucy nods, swallowing. Killian looks at her imploringly.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

_Yes, I have to. _

Her eyes fall to the tall, impressive form standing just inside the doorway. It almost makes her laugh, because the thought of Triton in shirt sleeves with his tie hanging around his neck is absurd. But she doesn't laugh, because he's Ted Morgan too, and they're both her father. The only parent she has left.

"I should leave," Killian mutters, but she shakes her head vigorously, begging with her eyes.

_Please don't. _

"Very well," He growls, moodily sinking in his chair and letting go of her hand. Her father gives him a disapproving look, before moving forward to sit beside her bed, on the opposite side. He doesn't touch her or speak, he just sits and stares at her, nodding to himself as if confirming that it is, indeed, her.

"You are in a world of trouble, young lady," He finally says, looking down at his hands. She gives a tired smile, resting her head against the pillows. She motions for Killian to hand her the notepad, which he does. Quickly, she scrawls a response.

_What else is new?_

"You still can't speak," Her father murmurs, realizing. She shrugs, embarrassed. "Do you know what I've been through, Ariel? _Lucy?" _She looks away from him, terrified she might burst into tears. "When you went missing, it _ruined_ me. I searched for you for _two_ years. _Two years,_ Ariel. I did what I never said I would do and I left the ocean…and your sisters…to find you. I took a potion to make me human and searched on _land_ for you. That's where I was when the curse hit," He shakes his head, breathing raggedly. She's reeling. It explains why her sisters aren't in Storybrooke. The waters of Atlantica, their home, are protected from dark magic. A precaution against Ursula. But if Triton had been on land, he'd been vulnerable. "Every day since that curse broke, I've been looking for you, searching in every corner of this town, praying for a flash of red hair. And I've been looking for Lucy too…the daughter who ran away from me when I married the woman I left her mother for."

Lucy closes her eyes, unable to think about it. Lucy's memories hurt too. Ted left Rose when Lucy was seven. Lucy and Rose were in a boating accident, killing Rose and leaving Lucy mute from the trauma. Both lives hurt equally, in different ways. But, Ariel can take comfort knowing that Lucy isn't real. The memories and the nightmares are real, but it never happened. Ariel's mother was Athena, and her parents had been deeply in love. Triton would never have betrayed his wife.

_I'm sorry._ She writes, trying to hold in her tears.

"Sebastian told me what happened," Her father tells her, "I went to Ursula to find you, but you weren't _there._ I thought she'd—" He stops himself. "You should have come to me."

_Would you really have listened, Daddy? _

"If it would have meant I got to keep you safe, I would have given you _anything,"_ Ted sighs, putting his head in his hands.

_Eric is dead. Because of me. _

"Eric is dead because he made the wrong choice," Killian's sardonic voice comes from her other side. "It's no fault of yours."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I agree with the pirate," Ted mutters, glaring at Killian. "Humans are vain, petty creatures…"

"True enough, that," Killian agrees cynically, earning a look of surprise from her father. It's almost funny, seeing the two men agree. She knows why her father harbors resentment toward Killian Jones. She also knows that Killian Jones is not the reason her mother is dead.

Davy Jones is.

_Daddy, you can't tell anyone you've seen me. Not even Octavia. _

"What do you mean?" Ted asks, looking bemused as she continues to write. The pen runs out of ink, making her huff in frustration until a hand covers hers. Glancing to her side, she sees his blue eyes flash with resignation as he nods at her.

_Tell him that Ursula is in town and she's trying to get to me. But don't tell him he's married to her._

Killian gives her a strange look, but turns his gaze on Ted. "She wants me to tell you that Ursula is in Storybrooke and is after her."

"She's _here?_" Ted thunders angrily, "Who is she? _Where _is she?"

"I wouldn't go looking for her, Majesty," Killian warns him, "Magic is here." He and Ariel share a glance and she nods gratefully, mouthing "Thank you."

"You can hear her?" Ted asks, looking between the two of them. Killian tries not to look too irritated as he nods.

"For some unfortunate reason, if we have physical contact, I can hear her clear as day," He confesses, taking slight satisfaction when Ted's eyes flash at the mention of "physical contact". "Magic, I'd wager," Killian adds, "Just keep Lucy's whereabouts quiet. We don't want anyone knowing who she is. Ursula is a shapeshifter," He continues, "She could be _anyone…"_

_Killian, don't. _ Ariel pleads, not wanting her father to start making assumptions.

"Very well…it stays between us," Ted agrees, "But I am still your father, Ariel. I want to see you. I've waited thirty-two years for this," He says in a choked voice. Ariel nods in agreement and opens her arms for her father, allowing him to pull her into a tight embrace. He looks over her shoulder at Killian. "You will protect my daughter." It is not a question or a request. It's the _demand_ of a king.

There is a pause, before the resigned answer. "Aye."


	6. Chapter 6

Emma is in no mood for games as she walks up the pathway to Regina's front door to pick up Henry. After finding out that there is another potentially destructive witch in town, she's about had it. Truthfully, Regina's been quiet as of late. Without Cora whispering in her ear all the time, she's become unnaturally subdued. Timid, even. Emma suspects there's more going on with her, but she knows better than to push Regina's buttons. Especially now that they're all getting along…in theory. The house is surprisingly dark as Emma rings the doorbell. Usually, at least the foyer lights are on and she can hear Henry chattering excitedly to his other mother. That's when she notices the figure standing off to the side, staring at a tree in bemusement.

"Regina?" Emma turns away from the front door, frowning at the state of the would-be Evil Queen and former mayor of the town. Her hair is hanging, unstyled and uncut, just below her shoulders. She's wearing sweats, which is also jarring as Regina is never seen in anything but her favored office attire. Distracted, the woman turns at the sound of her intruder's voice, but the look on her face is what alarms Emma. It's blank, almost as if she doesn't recognize her. "Is everything okay?" She tries again, wondering for a terrifying moment if someone has used magic against her. Perhaps a certain octopus lady.

Vaguely, Regina points to the tree she was looking at and responds, "There was a rabbit…"

"Okay?" Emma says, unsure of what to do. "Is that…bad?"

"I don't know," the ex-mayor answers, miserably as the sound of the front door opening makes both woman look. Henry is standing on the porch, clutching his backpack. The worry on his face is visible as he looks at the woman who raised him. When Emma turns, Regina's eyes are back on the tree.

"She's been like this since this morning," Henry explains softly, "She woke up and she's been out of it all day."

"Maybe we should leave her alone and let her have some privacy," Emma tells him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I don't know…I'm worried." Her son replies, glancing past her at Regina. "She keeps talking about rabbits and holes…and something about a clock, I think." He swallows. "I need to talk to Grandpa. Can you take me to Dad's?"

"Dad's waiting for us back at the apartment," Emma explains, "Grandpa is out with Belle tonight, but we can talk to him tomorrow morning." She turns back to Regina and inches toward her with her hands out, ready to block any spells Regina could toss her way. "Regina, we're going to get going, okay?"

"What?" Regina glances back at her, and for the first time, seems to notice they're there. "Emma, when did you get here?" The focus comes back into her eyes and she shakes her head as if putting it out of her mind.

"I've been here for about ten minutes," Emma tells her gently, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the woman who once tore her family apart. It's a strange thought, but at the same time, Emma has made her peace with Regina, even if she hasn't quite forgiven her yet. Some stubborn part of her is still holding a slight grudge…it must be one of the traits she inherited from David. It certainly didn't come from Mary Margaret, who as of late, has been Regina's biggest champion apart from Henry. (Much to Her Majesty's annoyance.) "I'm just here to pick up Henry. It's my night…remember?"

"Of course," Regina nods, glancing down at her attire and frowning in embarrassment. Emma makes it a point to pretend not to notice. Instead, she tells Henry to go wait for her in the Bug for a second. She waits until he's safely ensconced in the car, before she turns back to Regina.

"What is it?" She asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Regina's eyes narrow on her, before she sighs in resignation.

"I've been having some trouble with my memory. There are blank spots," The Queen admits, studying her fingernails. "Last night I kept having visions. Strange, nightmarish things."

"Do you think Cora—?" Emma begins, but is cut off with a warning stare from Regina.

"No," She snaps, still sensitive about her mother's downfall. "My mother is still where we left her. In my vault."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Let's forego the pretense, Emma. You aren't sorry," Regina inserts coolly, giving her an icy glare and making Emma bristle.

"Fine. I'm not sorry," She agrees, tired of the same old argument. "Your mother was a menace and a danger to Henry. Not to mention, she manipulated you into doing her bidding. So, you're right. I am not sorry." She watches closely as a few purple sparks escape Regina's fingers. "But I'm not here to fight with you, Regina. I need to tell you something." They stare at each other for a beat, "A young girl was attacked today. Lucy Morgan."

"The nun?" Regina asks, confused.

"Ex nun, actually," Emma counters, crossing her arms.

"The one who's taken in Hook," Regina nods knowingly. "I know her."

"Do you know _who_ she is?" Emma challenges, watching the woman's eyebrows rise.

"What are you implying, Miss Swan?" Regina asks, furrowing her perfectly sculpted brows. "Yes, I know _who_ she is. Her father approached me for help finding her before I cast the curse. A casualty of Rumple's."

"I should have figured he had something to do with it," Emma mutters, rolling her eyes. "What do you know about Ursula?" Regina's eyes flash with surprise at the sound of the name.

"I know enough to have the good sense not to talk about her," She hisses, lowering her voice. "Why?"

"Because Lucy insists that's who attacked her," Emma explains. "She said that she's in town and she's after her. Do you know who she is?" Regina is visibly startled by this, which makes the pit of Emma's stomach fill with dread.

"No," She admits reluctantly, "I don't. I cast the curse, but I didn't get to choose everyone's identities. That was Rumplestiltskin. Quite frankly, I was mostly concerned with what became of Snow White." Emma winces slightly, but nods, gesturing for her to go on. "She could be anyone. Ursula is the one who trained my mother in shapeshifting after she left the tutelage of Rumplestiltskin." Emma feels her eyes widen.

"Well," She swallows, "If you hear or see anything, can you let me know?"

"Of course," Regina allows, turning toward the house, before halting again. "Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it best if Henry stays with you through the weekend," Her voice falters at the end.

"Okay," Emma nods, "Um, if you need anything…you can call. I'll have my cell on me at all times." Regina doesn't respond to this, but Emma knows she heard as she disappears into the house.

Neal already has the pizza dished out on the counter when they return, grinning from ear to ear. Emma quirks an eyebrow at her sort of no longer ex (it's complicated), looking around for Mary Margaret. She's grading papers on the couch, chewing on the end of her pen as she tends to do while David sets food in front of her.

"You know I can't eat that, David," She protests softly, making a face.

"Try," David insists.

"Hey, Dad," Henry chirps, half heartedly hugging Neal, before heading straight for the pizza. Neal gives Emma a look.

"I see where I rank," He laughs, shaking his head, before meeting her eyes. She forces a smile, but he sees through her. "S'wrong?"

"Just another potential dangerous threat," She mutters, trying to move past him for a slice of pizza. He gently grabs her arm.

"Hey…talk to me. What do you mean?" He asks, eyeing Henry, who is chattering excitedly to David about his fifth grade science project.

"Lucy, the girl Hook is shacking up with, the one I hired yesterday, was attacked today…brakes were cut. Apparently she's—"

"The Little Mermaid!" Henry cries excitedly, already abandoning his food and reaching for the book. "Lucy Morgan, right?" Emma nods tiredly, resigned to the fact that Henry is far too observant. "I figured it out the last night when we were at Granny's." He opens the book to a page revealing a red haired mermaid sitting on a rock, staring at a man on the beach.

"Kid, can I hold onto this for a day or two?" She asks her son, flipping a few pages and wincing at the picture revealing Ursula. "Yikes."

"Of course," Henry agrees, devouring another bite of his pizza after picking off a green pepper.

"Isn't that Ted Morgan's wife?" David's voice comes from over her shoulder. He points to the dark haired beauty in the wedding dress on the final page of the story. Emma squints down at it, trying to place her. She does look familiar. Very similar to Octavia Morgan, who she's seen a few times since moving to Storybrooke. Three adults crowd around the book while the nearly twelve year old eats at the counter and Mary Margaret quietly looks up from her spot on the couch, giving Emma a questioning look.

"Uh oh," Emma groans, meeting David's blue eyes. "This is Ursula…isn't it?"

"We can call Gold in the morning," He says, "I don't want to interrupt anything—"

"Gross," Neal cringes, making Emma grin a little.

Confused, Henry replies, "What's gross? What are they doing?" Neal and Emma look helplessly at each other, while David covers his face with his hand.

"Yes, _Bae,_" She says, giving him a look of caution. "Tell us. What's gross?" Seamlessly, Mary Margaret walks into the kitchen area and puts an arm around Henry.

"Belle is cutting Grandpa's toenails." Everyone else in the room lets out a collective groan of horror.

"_Gross!"_ Comes the unanimous reply.

* * *

Keeping the girl awake proves to be a daunting task, Killian realizes, as he notices her head nod forward before bobbing back up. He's been trying to distract her with the glowing moving pictures box, but at this point, the appeal has been lost. Some unfortunate woman wearing too much makeup is prattling on about something or other she's selling and "if you call now, you can get two for just nineteen ninety-nine."

"Lucy!" He barks, making the girl jump in surprise and look over her shoulder at him. Tiredly, he watches her drag herself off of the couch and move over to where he's standing in the kitchen. She asked him to make coffee, but the problem is, he can't figure out how the bloody apparatus works, so he's been staring at it for the better part of twenty-minutes. Her eyes fall to the coffee filter in his hand and the open can of ground coffee beans on the counter. An amused quirk of her lips makes him scowl at her. Calmly, she brushes past him, reaching up and patting his cheek softly, grinning to herself all the way as she places the filter into a compartment of the machine and scoops some of the coffee grounds into it.

Killian watches in fascination as the machine springs to life, dribbling the coffee into the glass pot and filling the room with one of his favorite new aromas. Killian has never experienced coffee, though he has heard of it before. Neverland, of course, didn't have it, but there were traders and portal jumpers in parts of the Enchanted Forest that did. It was a distinct smell, reminding him of winter and warmth. In a strange way, it reminded him of his mother, who had been gone since he'd been a boy. He couldn't remember much about her, only that she had been very beautiful and had smelled like spice. Her eyes, he recalled, had been the same color of this coffee. He'd inherited his father's eyes, much as he'd have loved to deny it.

He was Davy Jones' son, and there was no changing that.

Davy Jones, who had been charged by the goddess Calypso with ferrying souls to the Underworld. Davy Jones, who had abandoned that task when Calypso had betrayed him and ripped his own heart from his chest. Davy Jones who had sired a bastard with a human woman. Davy Jones, who had killed a mermaid for singing and distracting his crew.

Killian had only seen his father a handful of times in his entire life, and none of them had gone well. His father is a violent, horrifying creature, who is less human than beast now. Triton is right to be wary of Killian. Davy Jones destroyed his family, took his love. It was one thing that Killian had lost Milah, but if they'd had children…he couldn't even fathom. Not that they'd ever wanted children. Milah had felt guilty enough for leaving her son, and both knew there was no place for a child on the Jolly Roger.

Lucy points to the cupboard, gesturing for him to pull out two mugs. Exhaused, he obliges, grabbing the first two he sees. An orange one with a cat on it that says _Mondays Suck,_ and a plain white one. Lucy smirks a little at the orange one and fills it with coffee, but nearly drops it. That's when Killian notices her hand is trembling a little. Sighing, he reaches around her and takes the cup, setting it on the counter, before removing the coffee pot from her other hand and guiding her out of the way.

"At this rate, lass, you'll do more damage than good," He tells her, pouring the second cup. She tries to smile, but only ends up yawning again as she crosses to the refrigerator and brings out a container of cream, pouring some into the glass she's claimed before offering it to him. _French Vanilla._ He makes a face, shaking his head. Tentatively, he brings the orange mug to his lips, inhaling the scent deeply and closing his eyes as he takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. The taste is slightly bitter, yet there is a satisfying after taste that warms his insides and relaxes him. It's the languid, sleepy feeling one experiences when waking up and lying in bed for a bit, watching the sun slip through the windows of the ship. It's a feeling he's nearly forgotten.

They return to the sofa, where the awful, painted blonde woman is now trying to pawn off some sort of miracle potion that gets rid of aging lines. She rubs some on her orange tinted skin with a long, talon-esque red fingernail. Lucy lets out a small snort of amusement, rolling her eyes at the screen. Reaching out, she places her hand on his arm, causing him to flinch and nearly spill his coffee.

_Easy, Captain. I happen to like this couch without coffee stains. _

"Aren't you delightful?" He mutters sardonically, rolling his eyes.

_Oh, don't be crabby, Killian. You didn't have to do this, you know…take care of me. I'm not your responsibility. _

His eyes fall to the ugly bruise surrounding her eye and pooling over her delicate cheekbone like an ugly purple badge. It's blotchy around the edges fading from purple to green to yellow on her alabaster skin. How could he abandon her when she'd had no reason to save him a few nights prior? It's an ugly truth, but she certainly _is_ his responsibility. And Killian can't imagine denying King Triton any request, even if he _is_ walking around in suits and running an aquarium. Once his debt is paid, he will leave her be and go see that giant about a ticket home, where he can live out his days in a lonely, discontent, pissy eyed fog. He doesn't belong in this quiet little town. He never will. He belongs on the Roger with nothing but water in his view, a bottle of rum in his hand and a woman in his bed.

His eyes slant sideways, taking in Lucy's inquisitive features. He clenches his jaw, noticing for the first time that she's less child than she is woman. Her eyes are large, framed with dark lashes that contrast with the light color appealingly. She has a sweet slip of a nose, but her mouth is something to behold. Her lips are lush and full, dark pink naturally against the light cream of her skin. Paired with the fiery auburn red color of her hair, she's a breathtaking woman. How any idiot Prince passed up his opportunity to have her for his own is beyond Killian. It's a crime in itself.

He watches with his peripheral vision as Lucy sets the mug aside and brings her knees up to her chest, curling up into the corner of her sofa, hugging a pillow to herself. Her eyes flutter dangerously, and Killian realizes that she's on the verge of sleep. He swiftly sets his own mug aside and nudges her, making her straighten up again. She yawns, giving him a sideways grin and rolling her eyes, touching his arm.

_I'm fine, you know. My head doesn't even hurt. _

"Yes, well, I'd rather not be pounded to dust by your rather formidable father," He retorts, exhausted. "In case you haven't noticed, without my beloved hook, I'm at a slight physical disadvantage. And by slight, I mean nearly four inches."

_My father isn't going to pound you to dust. Perhaps he'll just break a bone or two._

She's laughing at him, which should make him irate. He's too tired, though, to even care, so he just scowls at her. "You're just full of sass tonight, aren't you?"

_I have to entertain myself somehow._ She bites her bottom lip attractively, causing Killian to avert his eyes to prevent his body from reacting. _Tell me about your childhood._

Killian turns cold eyes on her, clenching his jaw as he answers shortly, "No."

_Why not?_

"Lucy, you know who my father is. I'm certain your father has been all too vocal in his disapproval of me for that very reason." Her eyes remain soft, searching his and making him uncomfortable. He starts violently when she reaches up to touch his unshaven face. "Don't." He says gruffly, but it comes out more like a plea than a demand.

_Not your father. Tell me about your mother. _

"There isn't much to tell, pet," He sighs, pulling her hand away from his face and carefully setting it safely back in her own lap. "My mother was named Calliope. She was a consort…a paid companion. My father bedded her on one of his days on land. He left. I was born nine months later. She died of the sweat when I was a boy. I was taken in as a kitchen boy by the owner of the establishment she was employed at. I slept with the pigs at night. When I was twelve, I joined the crew of a cargo ship and never looked back at that godsforsaken hell hole of a port." Lucy's mouth was slightly hanging open, invitingly, but Killian pushes that thought from his mind. A child in a woman's body. That's all she is. An innocent, guileless nymph. Nothing like the reckless, passionate woman Milah had been. He and Milah had been deliciously selfish and unapologetic about everything. And then she was gone and all he was left with was guilt and a hook.

_I don't remember my mother,_ she confesses, _Not really. I was three when she died. I don't remember her face. I only remember that she used to hum us a very specific tune before we went to sleep and it was nice. Sebastian once told me I look very much like her. _

"I never had the pleasure of meeting Queen Athena," He admits, "I was still in Neverland when she was—" He stops, biting the inside of his cheek at his almost blunder. It falls silent for a few moments as the moving picture screen changes to another person trying to sell something. Killian tries to recall Calliope's face. They'd called her the jewel of Port Crown. To this day, he cannot stand the filthy, smoggy, industrial hole that is Port Crown. Thankfully, in two centuries, nobody there remembers his face or name.

Funny enough, that port was where he'd first encountered Ariel.

They'd been pulling away from the docks when he'd heard the sirensong. She'd been singing to herself, clearly unaware that she could be heard and they'd caught glimpse of her sitting on a rock, basking in the sunlight that was clearly forbidden to her. It had been the most entrancing sound he'd ever heard, and she was nothing but a child. He doesn't want to think about how she'd sound now, were she able to sing. The sirensong is said to lead men to their deaths. He can barely handle her mute. The thought of her with full capacity of her voice…

"Killian?" He looks up to see Lucy sitting beside him, staring at him with a half smirk on her face. "You were sleeping." He frowns at her, shaking his head in disbelief as he sits up.

"Your voice…"

"My voice?" Her ocean eyes fill with confusion. "What about it?"

"You can talk," He mutters, sounding even to himself, a bloody idiot. She chuckles, sitting up in the bed and looking down at him with her glorious mane of red hair falling forward over her bare shoulders and chest.

"So I can," She agrees, laughing down at him and placing a hand on his chest. Furrowing his brows, he looks down for a moment and realizes he too is not wearing any clothing.

"Where are our clothes?" He wonders aloud, propping himself on his elbows and glancing at Lucy, who rolls her eyes at him.

"On the floor, where we _left_ them…" She makes a sound dangerously close to a snort, "Honestly, Killian…I would hope after all this time you'd at least have the decency to remember sleeping with your wife."

"My w—" His eyes fall to his left hand, curiously on the end of his left arm where it hasn't been in over two hundred years. On the fourth finger is a gleaming gold ring. His eyes widen as he turns back to Lucy, who is giggling.

"You haven't forgotten me already, Killian Jones…have you?" She swings one pale, shapely thigh over his body and places her hands on his chest. "I suppose I'll have to make you remember me, then." Killian watches, silently, as she lowers herself over him and tilts her face down…

Killian's eyes fly open and he sits up, gasping as his blood pounds furiously through his veins, making him shaky and weak with exhaustion and relief. They're still on the sofa. They're still clothed. He's still missing a hand. The screen has gone blank with grey fuzz. Lucy is curled up at the opposite end of the couch, fast asleep.

Panic hits him fast, like a punch to the gut as he flies across the cushions and touches her arm. He's accosted with a vision. He only watches for a moment, seeing a blur of himself, Lucy's father and a small bundle with a thick thatch of dark hair. He withdraws his hand immediately, launching himself away from her and jarring the sofa, disturbing her slumber. Her eyes open, straining to focus as she attempts to sit up. Killian stays as far away as the sofa will allow, staring at her with unseeing eyes. First, he's relieved that she woke up. Then he's angry at her for falling asleep in the first place. Next, he's angry at himself for falling asleep.

And finally, he's bloody furious that it was all a dream.


End file.
